Into The Fray: Season Three
by Thunderslate
Summary: EP4 BEGINS! Following the tragic events of Season 2, Vince and his diminished group travel to Indiana in a last-ditch attempt to find safety, praying that nothing goes wrong this time. [Multiple POVs, reading Season 1 & 2 is recommended]
1. (EP1) Chapter 1 - Prologue

**Prologue – Day 970**

**Vince**

Striding though grass that reached his knees, Vince did not dare to look back. His hands were held firmly in his pockets, fingers balled into fists of rage. His right set of knuckles were split and his left shoulder still ached and throbbed thanks to the bullet wound that was housed there.

His face was trapped in an eternal wince. Bonnie was still behind him; he could only tell thanks to the incessant bawling of the child the she was carrying; Annie was screaming without relent, flailing and struggling to get free so that she could run back to the town that lay behind them to find the allies who had met their end there.

Vince ignored the child and tried not to think about it. Wyatt, his closest friend, and Becca, his ward, were dead. He did not understand the precise circumstances of Wyatt's death but he knew that he had failed Shel by not being able to save Becca. He had failed Becca herself.

"Shh, shh shh shh." Bonnie muttered soothingly. Vince briefly looked over his shoulder by instinct, catching sight of Bonnie attempting to calm Annie down by stroking the long, brown hair on the back of the girl's head. For a second Vince wondered where the child's blue-green cap had disappeared to until he noticed the peak of the hat poking out of Annie's unzipped backpack. Bonnie had tears in her eyes, but she was doing all she could to hold them back. She briefly made eye contact with Vince who avoided her gaze and turned to face the path ahead, unable to face her.

They just had to get to the Eastland Mall over in Evansville, Indiana. They could make a go of it there, start something new. Surviving a trip from Ohio to Indiana was easier said than done, of course, judging by the fact that they had lost no less than nine people since deciding to set off that morning.

Vince had not exactly come a long way since escaping the collapsing Howe's Hardware four or so months ago. He'd been dehoused, knocked out, stabbed, shot and almost had surgical experiments performed on him. He had nothing to show for his journey.

Inhaling, Vince felt the breath catch in his throat. He almost coughed and spluttered, barely managing to act on instinct and avoid embarassing himself. Pressing his left hand to his chest, he felt his palm collide with the soft material of his coat. He blinked. There was still a hole in the shoulder where Becca had accidentally shot him. He had acquired the jacket with Becca by his side.

He blinked once more.

"I..." he muttered.

Bonnie made a guttural noise that suggested confusion and interest.

"I didn't try hard enough." Vince sighed, finishing his thought. He gripped hold of one of the lapels and pulled, tearing himself out of the jacket and exposing the brown shirt he wore beneath. Becca had been with him when he found the jacket. It reminded him too much of her.

The two sides of the coat hanging limply, Vince freed his arms and tossed the clothing to the ground in a fit of rage along with his backpack. "I could have saved them all!" he yelled.

"Hey- Hey!" Bonnie called, her voice becoming more aggravated as she rushed up to him and gripped his bad shoulder. "Keep your damned voice down! If there's anyone else out here you're gonna give us away!"

Vince freed himself from her grasp, pulling his left arm away and twisting to knock her back slightly with his right. "Don't touch me!" he seethed.

"I know you're pissed, Vince, but you're startin' to test me." Bonnie snapped. Vince's eyes narrowed as he stared her down. He had only been reunited with her a day ago and he had not realised how much she had changed.

"Carver's been rubbing off on you." He grimaced.

A slender hand slapped him in the face, knocking him to one side. "I... am... nuthin'... like that sonofabitch." Bonnie scowled, shaking her stinging hand.

Vince raised an eyebrow, barely able to see through one eye – not because of the slap, but due to another beating from someone else. He turned away from her, leaving his jacket in the grass and muttering, "The Bonnie I knew wouldn't've done that."

In his guilty, aggressive haze, Vince came to a point of realisation. Something was missing; if Bonnie was holding Annie, how could she have slapped him?

But wait. Bonnie had not been holding Annie just then. So where _was_ the kid?

Glancing around, Vince sighed with relief when he saw that Annie had not gone far. The seven-year-old was sitting cross-legged in the grass. He expected that she would have to run off back to Wyatt's corpse, which was most likely undead by now, but she hadn't.

Ignoring Bonnie's presence as the woman's shoulders rose and fell slowly in rage and confusion, Vince wiped his face with the back of his hand and took ten or so steps to reach Annie, making sure to pick up his backpack on the way.

The seven-year-old was sitting on the edge of a hill which dipped down into quite a deep, grassy trench, watching the sun as it slowly sank and turned the sky pink. Vince lay his backpack down and slowly placed his backside on the ground next to her, feeling a surge of guilt as Annie flinched slightly.

Waiting ten seconds or so for Annie to become comfortable in his presence, Vince took a deep breath and exhaled with an exaggerated amount of effort, pursing his lips. "Rough day, huh?"

Annie emitted a tiny little squeak of sadness as she drew her legs into her chest, wrapping her arms around them. Placing her right cheek onto her knees so that her face was pointing towards Vince, the man recognised the tears streaming from her sore eyes, down her tiny face.

The wordless act was not one that instructed Vince to leave, in fact the child's acknowledgement of him suggested that she required a comforting presence, now more than ever. The truth was, so did he.

"Wyatt was my friend." Vince started, wincing as Annie choked a sob at the mention of her guardian's name. "Wyatt was my _best _friend." He smiled. "I can't remember _when_ we met, but I remember how. I was with this guy, Justin. He was a weird guy, a huge wuss."

"Like me." Annie muttered, her words distorted as her face pressed itself into her knees.

"No," Vince shook his head, speaking monotonously, "Justin ran away a long time ago. He left me and the others behind because he was in it for himself. You're not a coward. I've never seen you run away. Anyway, Justin and I were running from these walkers. It was night time, and it was foggy. Then we hear these cars _screaming _as they burn rubber and decide to check it out. By the time we're in the area we don't see any cars and it's pitch black. I can't even see my hand in front of my face – then Justin like walks face first into this other guy we don't even know is there, the guy's glasses fall to the floor and he almost shoots me in he face because he's scared."

"Wyatt." Annie sighed.

"You know it," Vince said, rubbing his brow with an open hand. "Then, right after trying to kill me he asks if I can help him. We almost left him behind but I decided he'd probably be more useful than goddamn _Justin._ And y'know what would've happened if I hadn't?"

Annie glanced at him, requesting that he continue.

"If I didn't bring him along, he never would've come to Howe's with me. He never would've been there for you all those times; when Howe's went down, when all those bad guys chased us. Wyatt always had your back."

"I'm gonna die without Wyatt." Annie mumbled feebly.

Vince smiled, then rested his hand on her shoulder. "You know what? You don't need Wyatt to have your back, because I know you can do it. You got out of a fortress on your own, found help and came back in time to spring us all out. Wyatt wasn't there that time and people were hunting you down, so I know you can go on walking across a state with two people by your side, making sure you're okay."

A brief smile crossed Annie's lips, telling Vince all he needed to know. She believed in him. At least he'd been able to inspire someone rather than failing to save them.

Vince reached for his backpack and unzipped it, pausing for a moment. While Wyatt had done everything for Annie, _died _for her, what exactly had Vince done for his own ward, Becca? He'd told her she was old enough to make her own choices when in truth she had only been fifteen in a fucked up world. He had neglected her until it was too late, and she had not been ready to go it alone. If she was still out there now, Vince knew he had not given her the tools to survive and she probably wouldn't last five minutes.

Sighing at the thought, Vince glanced at Annie again. He would honour Wyatt's memory by guarding the man's ward, Annie, with his life. He'd respect Becca by looking after the child that was almost her adopted sister.

"I'm gonna give you something." Vince announced, reaching deep down into his backpack and revealing a rolled up item of yellow-camouflage design. "I picked this up yesterday when we were escaping that..._ Sanctum _place." he almost spat at the ground in disgust as he uttered the name. "This jacket was Becca's. She kept it for a long time even though it didn't fit her - I think her mom gave it to her or something, I don't know. It's too small for her now, and it's too big for you. Better bigger than smaller, though, right?"

Annie's eyes widened as Vince passed the splodgy-designed coat to her. "She was wearing that when I first met her." He smiled. "Always had a storm cloud over her head back then, the moody little..." he paused and looked at the child next to him again, silencing himself before he could say any more. He didn't think Annie was listening any more; she was too busy hugging Becca's jacket and attempting to wear it simultaneously.

Pressing his right palm to the top of Annie's head he gently patted her long brown hair and slowly pushed himself to his feet. "Come on, we've got a long walk ahead of us."

Turning and spying Bonnie in the distance, Vince started to walk but felt something warm and small grip his left hand. He looked down and noticed Annie's right hand connecting to him as she fed her free arm through the other sleeve of Becca's jacket. It hung down by her knees and the sleeves were pushed up so far that it made her forearms look incredibly bulky but it didn't seem to worry her. So long as Becca was with them, he presumed.

The two of them began walking to Bonnie, slightly reassured. Vince wasn't sure whether Bonnie presented a problem or not but he'd deal with that when it came to it. He had to finish up Wyatt's job and make sure Annie was fit for this world, like he had failed to do with Becca.

Not this time.


	2. Chapter 2 - Grief

**THREE AND A HALF MONTHS LATER**

**Day 1057**

**Vince**

Walking.

That was all Vince could remember since leaving the field with Bonnie and Annie. Walking... and searching for supplies. Vince had often found himself carrying Annie overnight, while the child slept, in a desperate attempt to reach safety quicker but became tired extremely fast. He barely rested for an hour a day and the lack of sleep was slowing him down more than speeding him up.

He found himself thinking a lot as he walked, imagining different outcomes to the fight against Sanctum and how he could have saved everyone if he'd been a better leader.

"_I should've stayed with Wyatt and Annie. Wyatt would have lived."_

"_I should've looked harder for Becca. Becca would've lived."_

"_If I had kept an eye out for Silas, I probably could've saved whoever he killed."_

"_If I'd told Sully and Emily what to do, they'd both be with me now."_

"_Maybe I should have killed Shaw there and then. Hector would still be with us."_

"_I should've run to Tyler. He wouldn't have tried to reach me and wouldn't have been shot."_

He had so many regrets and too much time to think about them. Once he started he could not stop.

Hopefully it wouldn't last much longer. The three of them had reached Interstate 275 which led directly into Indianapolis and from there Vince would most likely be able to find Evansville and their destination, the Eastland Mall. Wiping a mop of black hair out of his face and sweeping it to one side, Vince thought about what to do if the mall was still overrun by walkers as it had been during his last visit over six months ago. The idea took his mind off of his survivor's guilt but also made him dread the idea of running into a herd.

If all was lost once they reached their destination, it'd probably do him in. He'd probably just give up right there and then.

Vince had never been one to give up. He had been a clever man, a bit sarcastic and a bit snarky, but he'd always been determined. Following the deaths of his closest friends, however, and the gruelling task of walking with minimal rest for three months, Vince had started to become worn. He had once been as sharp as a knife, but that knife was becoming dull and was in desperate need of a whetstone.

Sighing, Vince looked over his shoulder. Annie was walking alongside Bonnie in silence. Bonnie glanced at him and raised her eyebrows but he ignored her, instead looking back at Annie. The child was still wearing Becca's yellow camouflage jacket with a hoody beneath it, despite the summer heat. Her head remained bare, no hat covering her long brown locks. Vince remembered Becca making a remark about cutting it. Annie must have recalled that too, because she didn't allow anyone near it with a pair of scissors. Soon enough Vince and Bonnie would probably have to pin her down and forcibly cut her hair before it reached her feet, but that was a long way off.

Much like Vince's, Annie's eyes were surrounded by creases and bags. Unlike Vince, however, Annie was not suffering from lack of sleep. Her main issue was grief. Vince's motivational speech back in April had only done so much and it had eventually hit her that Wyatt and Becca were not going to return to them regardless of how much she insisted on it. For a few days she had refused to eat or sleep, sniffling without restraint as they all walked on, but eventually the hunger pains broke her and she gave in. Her spirit had not been as strong, however. It was like a bright light had gone out only to be replaced by a cheaper, weaker bulb that never shone as strongly as what had once been in its place.

It didn't help that they had missed her birthday, not knowing the date, and had only been told about it after the fact.

Vince closed his eyes, breathed deeply and then turned back to face the road ahead, completely disregarding Bonnie. He was not sure why they were still together. Bonnie was truly the one responsible for all those deaths; she'd plotted with the prisoners to bring down Howe's and Carver, and later, following her 'heroic' return she had acted rashly, firing several gunshots that alerted a herd and then everything escalated until there were only three group members left in a field.

Vince could take Annie one night and leave, make it to Eastland and ditch Bonnie, but he couldn't bring himself to do it. Bonnie's intentions were good - she just had extremely poor judgement and never stopped to think. Plus she knew their destination so she'd only catch up at some point, pissed off that they'd left her. It was better to let her tag along. At least she was a good shot.

"It's gettin' late." Bonnie announced half-heartedly. "We should find somewhere to sleep."

Vince shook his head. "We're walking on a fucking interstate. You see anything anywhere besides trees on either side of us, you let me know."

Bonnie groaned, exasperated. "I don't know how long you can keep goin', Vince. Sooner or later you're not gonna be in a good enough shape to defend yourself. How's that gonna help make sure Annie's safe?"

Pushing air through gritted teeth, Vince stopped walking. Though he did not want to admit it, Bonnie was right. Annie was the priority here, and if he was too fatigued to fend off a walker he wouldn't be of any use.

"Fuck," he seethed, not wanting to waste time by stopping but knowing it was their only option. "Shout if you see anything."

"We're only a few days away, Vince," Bonnie guessed, "We've got all the time in the world. Let's just... take it slow."

He looked over his shoulder and glared at the woman, his expression commanding that she stop talking. Her face still housed a light mark where Becca had violently attacked her – yet another shadow the teenager had left behind. Another constant reminder that she was gone.

Huffing quietly to himself, Vince faced the road again and continued walking west, watching the sun gradually sink below the horizon in the corner of his eye.

"_Just a few more days,"_ he thought to himself. _"It's only a few more days. I can sacrifice a couple of hours for sleep."_

Scratching the back of his head, Vince huffed once more, wiped one of his eyes, and decided to keep a lookout for any sort of building they could camp in.

–

As the group of three closed in on a small maintainence shed at the side of the road, Vince guessed it was just past midnight. He hadn't slept in around three days, just walked. Once he stopped he could not work out how he had kept moving without fainting, but now the fatigue was upon him. He could barely keep his eyes open.

"Bonnie, keep an eye out." He ordered sluggishly. "I'm gonna try and get these doors open."

Annie remained silent but lightly pushed herself into the corner of his vision to remind him of her presence, just as he had expected her to. Her body language told him that she was unsure of what to do, and required orders like Bonnie.

"Annie, stick by Bonnie. Stay where she can see you." He warned, withdrawing his machete. He didn't want his hand to swing backwards and the blade to find its way into the child's head.

Eyeing the rusty padlock that held the door shut, Vince blinked heavily. He could feel himself swaying as he struggled to stay awake, but he wouldn't have to worry about that for long. Scanning the immediate area for the undead, he turned back towards the doors once he was sure he was only able to see bushes and trees. He raised his arm, machete in hand, and slammed it down on the damaged lock. It rattled loudly and the squealing noise of metal on metal as he pulled the blade away for another swing made him flinch. Raising his hand once more, he eyed the small dent he had made in one of the links of the padlock's chain and aimed for that.

After attacking the lock once more, he heard a hiss coming from Bonnie's direction. "_Vince," _she called, "That noise is gonna attract walkers."

"Can't do much about it." He muttered, lining his arm up for another slice. "Can't exactly cut through rusted metal quietly."

Bonnie shook her head and turned her attention back to scanning the area around them. Vince slammed his weapon down once again and saw that he was making some decent headway through the rusted chain, orangey flakes falling off quite rapidly from a hefty dent. "One more should do it." He thought.

Aiming for the dent, Vince brought his arm down one last time and cursed when he missed the gap he had been working on. Sighing, he pressed the blade into the hole and resorted to sawing the final half a centimetre instead of slashing it.

An irritating scraping filled the air as Vince pushed the blade back and forth, knowing all too well that the weapon would probably come away blunt thanks to what he was doing. He'd have to find a whetstone to sharpen it.

Feeling another surge of drowsiness as he sliced, Vince blinked, his head drooping, but slowly regained his posture and realised that the chain was cut. Pulling the lock away he put his machete back over his shoulder and into his backpack, the handle sticking out haphazardly, and gripped the two handles.

"S'open!" he called, slurring his words. He saw Bonnie and Annie turn to face him, the former putting her rifle away.

As he watched them, Vince felt something slam against the other side of the door. Shocked, he shook his head and stared at the doors dumbly until something hit it again, knocking him off-balance. He collapsed onto his backside and his palms as the doors were slammed open by something on the inside.

Shielding his face, hoping in his fatigued state that it would save him, Vince pressed his free hand into the soft, grassy ground as he recognised the milky white eyes and the decayed face that slowly crept towards him from inside the shed, more faces like it behind the being.

The man and the walker shared an odd stare for a moment and then all hell broke loose.


	3. Chapter 3 - Trauma

**Day 1057 - Night**

**Annie**

Letting loose an involuntary squeal as walkers staggered out of the maintainence shed in their masses, Annie watched Vince struggling on the ground. He had been knocked over by the doors as they were forced outwards by the undead and was propping himself up with one hand while shielding his face with the other.

Bonnie had been right next to Annie moments earlier but now she was gone, running on autopilot and diving into action to aid Vince.

Annie's body told her to run and stay out of the immediate area until it was safe, and she felt her legs moving without commanding them to do anything. Treading backwards through the grass, the eight-year-old struggled to halt herself and cease her attempts to flee. With Vince on the ground, she couldn't leave Bonnie to deal with walkers herself.

Tearing her backpack from her shoulders, Annie made sure she was far enough away from the chaos that she would have time to search through it. The walkers had not noticed her yet.

She dropped the bag to the ground and gripped the zips, pulling them outwards so that she could thrust her hands inside and withdraw what she was looking for. She gulped as she felt the cold metal of a pistol slide between her fingers and pulled the weapon free. Leaving the backpack on the ground she pushed herself to her feet and remembered what Bonnie had taught her about shooting a gun.

"_'Feet in line with shoulders...'" _she mumbled to herself, "_'Make sure I'm balanced.'"_

She pointed the gun at the nearest walker and applied pressure to the trigger.

In the split second it took for the end of the barrel to explode in a flower of orange light Annie flinched, glanced away and felt herself being pushed back by the sheer force of the shot. She stumbled back, losing her balance just as Vince had, and collapsed onto her back.

The gunshot initiated an onslaught of images that rushed through her head: an attacker with a navy cap and a smirking face shoving her to the ground... reaching for her pistol as he gloated... pulling the trigger and blasting a hole in the man's chest, only for him to return the favour milliseconds later as he collapsed. Wyatt's face as he realised the bullet would kill him. The protesting screams as Annie was forcefully dragged away. How Wyatt was going to die because no one even bothered to help.

All of it, tied together with the undertone of echoing screams which got louder and louder, until...

Annie snapped back, the image of Wyatt's face lingering in her vision for only a second, then the ugly, deformed face of a walker broke the illusion like a hammer through glass. Disjointed from reality, she watched for a second as her hands fought automatically, then realised the screaming persisted, and that it was coming from her.

She was screaming, her eyes were streaming, her hands were covered in the gore of a decaying corpse as she grappled its forearms.

Her breaths heaved between wails as she tried to push the corpse away, but it pressed on in its attempt to devour her. "_Why is no one helping?" _she asked, the volume of her inner voice too loud to bear. "_Why?"_

Wyatt would help. Wyatt would have been there right away. Wyatt would've killed the walker, thrown it to one side, helped her to her feet and pulled her into a tight embrace to tell her that everything was okay and that he was there for her.

Light shone down on Annie's face as the walker was removed from her field of view. Someone gripped her wrist and pulled her up onto her feet. She knew he would come back; he would never give up that easily.

She wrapped her arms around her saviour's waist and emitted a solitary sigh of relief. "Wyatt."

"No- Bonnie." The figure replied, crushing Annie's hopes as they pulled away from the hug. "I'm sorry."

Annie watched as Bonnie turned, slammed the stock of her rifle into the temple of a nearby walker to disable it and rushed to Vince's aid. The man remained unhurt but he was still on the ground, knocking a walker back so that he had room to escape.

Tears forming in her eyes, Annie simply watched the two adults sort themselves out. Vince pushed a struggling corpse off of his body and flipped onto his palms, providing himself with the leverage he needed to break into a sprint and grab his machete which had fallen uselessly to the ground. Bonnie smacked another body in the head, not willing to fire it in case it attracted more unwanted attention.

Bodies littered the ground as the adults finished off the stragglers. Vince glanced at his wrists and felt his neck, searching for bites and sighed when his results came back negative. Bonnie wiped the blood from her hands and grunted, aggravated, when Vince gripped her forearms and pulled her sleeves up to make sure she would not pose a threat later on. Bonnie scowled and pulled herself from his grip, crossing her arms fiercely.

Vince strode over to Annie, using one hand to scratch the back of his head while wiping the other on his t-shirt. Kneeling in front of her he avoided her gaze, all too aware that she had seized up. His eyes found their way to the cuff of the jacket she was wearing – the jacket that had once belonged to Becca – and he grabbed her arm, pulling her towards him.

He held her wrist to his eyes and stared at the frayed thread, his eyes widening. Still phased out, Annie didn't register the bite on her sleeve. Vince breathed in through his teeth and wrenched the sleeve upwards, gasping with relief when he found that the skin beneath it was pristine. Becca's jacket had saved her.

Annie sucked in a shuddering breath and Vince's attention was finally drawn to her face. He wiped his own tired eyes and she saw him stare at the tears streaming down her face. She was still thinking about the series of images that had flashed through her head following the gunshot. She'd had dreams like that before but nothing so vivid.

Vince glanced past her and then looked back to her. He wiped her cheek with his right thumb and placed his hand on the back of her head, forcing her into an hug that she desperately needed. Annie stared into his shoulder as she felt him put his free arm beneath her knees, lifting her off of her feet as she wept silently. She felt the adult's head turn to stare at their other companion and mutter some orders. Something about collecting the child's things from the ground and that he didn't understand what was going on. He halted for a moment as Bonnie's voice got quieter, then much louder again as she moved past them and strolled into the maintenance shed where they would be making camp. The woman scanned the interior of the building for walkers and called when she decided it was safe.

Annie felt herself bobbing up and down again as Vince carried her inside, the sounds of the man's footsteps becoming more solid and echoing in the abandoned shed. The support of one of Vince's arms disappeared momentarily as he closed the doors to the shed, but he replaced his arm shortly after, providing a reassuring comfort.

The child's head shifted slightly, allowing for a better look at the inside of the room. It was dark, but she could just about recognise Bonnie's form unpacking some tattered rags they called blankets, putting them on the ground. She felt herself being lowered as Vince set her down on one of the sheets, laying her on her side. He stood up to walk away but Annie's hand instinctively gripped the material of his trousers.

She saw the man almost gasp with frustration but he relaxed quickly, his shoulders sinking as he pressed his back against the wall of the shed and slowly slid down into a seated position next to her head. He sighed, tired, and stared dead ahead as Annie gripped hold of his forearm to keep him in place. She needed to keep the warm presence where she knew where it was.

Bonnie glanced at them both from the centre of the room, then shuffled closer to the door, weapon in hand, to take the first watch. Vince was already drifting off.

"What happened?" he asked, lazily and half-heartedly. "You locked up."

"I saw him." Annie admitted, her hand tightening around the man's arm like a vice. "I saw it all like it was happening again."

Vince already knew what she was talking about. "You've gotta..." he paused. "I dunno what to say, 'Nee. Let's just get where we're going."

Annie pushed herself backwards so that Vince's right arm was around her shoulders. "I'm scared."

Vince breathed outwards and let his head tip backwards. "'Least that means you can feel anything more than guilt. Just try and get some sleep. Take each day as it comes. That's the only way we're gonna get through this shit."

Annie yawned, slowly drifting off herself. "I wish the others were here."


	4. Chapter 4 - Sighting

**Day 1058**

**Vince**

Vince awoke to the unwelcome sensation of a stiff neck. He leaned forwards in his seated position and attempted to work it off, realising that Annie's head was rested in his lap. He gently lifted the child's shoulders, hoping not to wake her, and lay her down on the ground, balling up a blanket and placing it under her head so that she wouldn't wake up in a similar state to the one he had.

Climbing to his feet, Vince scanned the room. Judging by the light shining through the windows at the very top of the corrugated metallic wall, it was some point between mid and late morning. He pushed past a shelf, still rolling his neck around to loosen it up, and noticed Bonnie lying further down the room, asleep. So much for trusting her to stand guard; she had once again proved how unreliable she was.

Gritting his teeth, he lightly placed his foot on the wall of Bonnie's stomach and used it to shake her until she began stirring. Once he was certain that she would wake he walked to a corner of the room where they had dumped their packs.

Feeling a lot stronger thanks to the full night's worth of sleep, Vince lifted the largest of the three packs – a large, multi-segmented one intended for camping – and slid it over his shoulders. Eager to get moving, he neglected to start a fire to cook what little food they had left. If they were lucky they'd find some edible plantlife on the final stretch of the journey, but he doubted it.

Lifting Annie's lightweight, cyan-hued rucksack, he walked over to the child and crouched by her side. Lightly placing his free hand on her shoulder, he spoke in an attempt to wake her up. "'Nee?" He muttered, "time to get up. Gotta get moving."

Annie rolled onto her back, wiping one eye with the back of her wrist, and yawned loudly. She glanced at him and for a moment he thought she would argue about having to leave, but it seemed that she understood the urgency. There would be plenty of time to rest once they made it to their destination.

"I had another nightmare again." She admitted softly. "But Wyatt wasn't there this time."

Vince let his curiosity get the better of him. "What happened?" he questioned, making sure the child's pack was firmly sealed before passing it to her.

Annie shook her head. "Nothing."

Vince raised his eyebrows. On second thought he was glad that he had not received an answer. "Well," he muttered, patting the girl's bag and changing the subject, "There's some food in there if you get hungry, but we should probably get moving."

He stood up to go and make sure Bonnie was ready but Annie halted him. "Wait, wait," she called, stopping him and standing up. "Map."

Vince was confused for a moment until he felt a tug on his pack. Turning he saw Annie sit back down into a cross-legged position with a pen and a map of the state which they had found a few days ago. Unfolding the tattered piece of paper Annie raised the felt tip and pointed it at the paper. "Where are we?" she asked, her left hand moving in a circle as she tried to locate the maintenance shed. "There's a big road here, then it goes down and left. There's all those little circles with numbers in them – what are they for again?"

"Interstates."

"275... 231... 62..." Annie hummed to herself, tracing the roads with her felt tip. "Then there's this big place..." she squinted at the wording on the map. "Seeee... sahhh... sah-hannd...ell-ee-ur? Sahandellier?"

Vince kneeled down, staring at the paper. "Annie, that says _Chandler_. Didn't you learn..." he paused, aware that such a comment would only embarrass her even more than she already seemed to be.

"Oh." Annie muttered. She looked down at the paper. "But that's a 'C'."

"It doesn't matter." Vince told her, patting her back reassuringly. "It's nothing to be worried about, you were still learning before everything happened. Just try and spell it instead of reading it."

"Okay," Annie nodded. "Then you'll tell me what it says?"

"Yeah."

"_Yoo... Enn... Eye... Vee... Eee... Arr..._"

"-S-I-T-Y." Vince finished. "University. Any other words?"

"_Ohh... Eff..._" Annie stuttered.

"...Of..." Vince continued, giving her time to think about each letter.

"_Eee... Vee... Ayy... Enn.. See_ – no, wait, _Ess – Vee, Eye, Ell, Ell, Eee._"

"Evans... Evansville?" Vince asked. "Wait, wait," he ducked down and stared at the piece of paper, accidentally smudging some of the ink from Annie's pen but ignoring it. He pushed his finger across the page, to the right and tapped it on the landmark he was searching for.

"Well, holy shit." He muttered, eyes widening. "We're closer than I thought." He looked up and called across the room. "Bonnie!"

The red-headed woman was there in a flash, standing over him – rifle in hand as she slid on the remaining backpack. "What is it?"

"We're closer than I thought." He repeated. "Can't be more than four or five hours away – fuck, we'll get there _today!_"

Bonnie was taken back by his remark. "That can't be right." She frowned, shaking her head. "I thought we had a couple days left at _best_. This is too soon."

"We've been doing this for three months, Bonnie!" Vince exclaimed, "We were bound to make it sooner or later! All those detours and supplie runs set us back a few weeks but this map-" he tapped the paper to get his point across, "-made it so much easier. Annie's been following it the whole time, and it seems like she got it right."

Bonnie sighed. "Just be prepared for her to be wrong, otherwise you'll kick yourself when we don't get there."

"We'll get there." Vince told her sharply, his eyes narrowing as he started to walk towards the door. "Now, come on. If we keep a steady pace we might make it without having to stop once."

–

Two hours after leaving, Vince had kept his word. The three of them hadn't stopped despite Bonnie's moans about how they should rest for all their sakes, especially Annie. The eight-year-old didn't seem to mind, though. In fact, Vince thought she appreciated putting as much distance between themselves and their previous ventures from months past as possible.

Tuning back into Bonnie's incessent groans, Vince heard her arguing about something else. "What happens if there are walkers there?" She asked tersely. "We'll all be tired like last night. Vince, _you'll _just get knocked onto your back again, and... _God,_ Annie'll just freeze again."

Vince shook his head but didn't reply, keeping his eyes on the road. Annie caught up with him, leaving Bonnie to fall behind them, and showed him the map. "How long do you think?" she asked.

"Couple of hours at most." He told her.

"Do you..." Annie began, but halted herself.

Vince kept his eyes on the road, but found himself interested. "What?"

"No, it's stupid." Annie admitted, shaking her head. Vince looked down at her and patted her back, giving her time to decide whether she wanted to continue her query. Withdrawing his hand he let it fall limply by his side and turned his attention to what seemed to be a pile-up of cars on the horizon. The sides of the roads were becoming much more populated now, slowly fading into suburbs and soon enough, a city.

"Um..." Annie hummed, her eyes focused on the asphalt. "Do you think any of the others made it?"

Vince replied immediately. "I hope so."

The answer probably wasn't what Annie was looking for but it was the best he could give her. Wyatt was dead and the most likely outcome was that whoever else remained of their group was dead too. The only potential survivors Vince could hope for were Hector, an enemy-turned-ally, and Tyler, an old 'friend' from their days back at Carver's camp. Hector had run off to find Tyler, but the two of them did not get along and if they were travelling alone together walkers probably would have torn their throats out if they hadn't done it themselves already.

"Hey, look!" Annie whispered, pointing at something in the distance. For a second Vince thought she had spotted their destination but he found his eyes focusing on something creeping out from under a car. Annie smiled and crept ahead of the adults, stopping behind a ditched car. Vince and Bonnie caught up to her and the former identified the animal as a creature.

The eight-year-old stared at the animal from her hiding place and turned to look at Vince. "I haven't seen a rabbit in ages!" she exclaimed. "I didn't think they were still around! Do you think they made groups like people do? I know there aren't any rabbit walkers but how else would they make it?"

"Rabbits ain't people." Bonnie stated bluntly.

"Can I touch it?" Annie asked, moving forwards slightly and stretching out her arm. Vince instinctively reached and pulled her back, worried that the animal was carrying some sort of disease that Annie could catch. It was sitting in the middle of the road nonchalantly, its nose twitching as it gazed, glassy-eyed around the area.

"Could kill it for food," Bonnie whispered, but Annie scowled at her in response, ending the matter.

"Just watch it," Vince muttered. "Then we'll carry on."

As he spoke, the three of them heard a mechanical clicking to their left, coming from between two houses. The rabbit heard it as well, its ears perking up as it reared back and looked over its shoulder. Vince glanced at the two houses and then back to the rabbit, wondering what was afoot.

Just as he was about to say he didn't like the sound of the clicking, something thin and long sliced through the rabbit's neck but didn't dig into the ground, the force of the impact instead pushing the corpse along the road slightly.

Annie's chest heaved in shock as she backed away. Vince grabbed her shoulders and pressed a hand over her mouth to keep her quiet. He looked at the deceased mammal and identified the weapon used to kill it; a crossbow bolt.

Holding Annie to make sure she remained quiet, Vince exchanged glances with Bonnie.

Someone else was there.


	5. Chapter 5 - Tail

**Day 1058**

**Annie**

Annie reeled back and freed herself as the rabbit's body ground to a halt but remained quiet, afraid of what would happen if she made any kind of noise. Vince was peering past the bonnet of the car which they were using as cover while Bonnie had ducked down to avoid being seen.

Footsteps scraped across the ground as Annie pushed herself back into a crouching position. The death of the animal had been shocking, but didn't quite have the same effect as the gunshot from the night prior. She hoped to get a glimpse of the rabbit's murderer but she heard him before she saw him.

The stranger hummed to himself loudly, apparently unaware of the danger of making so much noise. He moved right up to the dead animal, revealing his appearance. He had short, brownish hair and a very creased face. A crossbow was slung over his back and he had a large satchel on his hip. His line-covered face twisted disapprovingly at the rabbit.

"Shit." He snarled. "Not mush, but id'll have to do."

Annie looked askance at the way the man spoke. For a moment she couldn't work it out but soon enough she realised he must have been from another country. What must it have been like to be stranded thousands of miles from home with no one you knew? She paused at the thought – she wasn't exactly in a different postion.

The man had already scraped the rabbit from the ground along with his bolt and was already leaving the area, whistling merrily as he did so, but instead of continuing across the road he had turned to his left and was following the same path as the group had intended to.

Once he was out of earshot, Vince was the first to speak. "That was odd."

"Who do ya think that guy was?" Bonnie asked. "Where's he goin?"

"Looks like he knows where he's going." Vince replied, looking back over the car bonnet to stare at the vanishing figure. "Maybe we should scope him out, see where he's headed. Maybe he's got a place."

"Maybe he's nice." Annie muttered. "Maybe we should just catch up to him."

Vince looked at her, disapproval clear on his face. "We can't be sure. We've trusted people too many times to just walk up to them. You should _know_ that by now, Annie."

In response, Annie stared at the ground as Vince made his decision. "We'll track him, see where he goes and if he's alone. I'll make sure he's always where we can see him. Bonnie - you make sure no one else is following us."

"We should probably get movin', then," Bonnie warned, "He's getting a bit far."

Vince nodded and pulled Annie to her feet, retrieving his machete. They started off jogging so they could keep the stranger in their sights, Annie's eyes glancing at the rabbit blood that stained the road even though she tried to avoid it. Vince immediately darted for the houses at the side of the road, just in case their target looked behind to spy a man, woman and child chasing him, and ducked to make sure he was out of sight. Following suit, Annie and Bonnie stared at the crossbow-weilding foreign man as they began to give chase.

–

The stranger's journey had been relatively straightforward. Vince, Bonnie and Annie had followed him through one or two small towns, only ever losing him for a few seconds at a time as he turned a corner or moved behind a building, but it seemed as if he was heading south-west, just as they were, keeping his journey in as much of a straight line as he could.

Annie was confused as to why the man was so far from his camp – he definitely had a destination in mind given how he stared at signs occasionally, turning one way and then backing up on himself. Perhaps he had already looted the immediate area and had to head out further afield every time he needed supplies. Annie wasn't sure, but such a process seemed wholly inefficient.

"Vince, are we still on track to where we're goin'?" Bonnie asked. "One minute you wanna get there quick, then the next you're chasin' some random guy."

"We're doing both at the same time." Vince told her through gritted teeth, looking past a street corner and watching their prey. "Judging by the directions he's taking he's gonna go straight past the general area of the mall. We're only about half an hour away at this speed."

"Convenient." Bonnie mumbled, eyes narrowing.

Vince started moving again. "Come on." He ordered, ducking even though the stranger had not looked back once. He seemed oblivious to their existence, humming to himself as he strolled through the deserted, desolate streets of Indiana, practically asking for trouble.

The three of them dashed down the street, from one side of the road to the other as the man turned right. Vince halted them again and quickly looked down the road. "He's stopped." he whispered. "And he's talking."

Annie tuned into the man's voice. "... no, not a lot – look, I know this won't be enough, but derr's not mush I can do about it, sadly..."

"Who's he talking to?" Bonnie pressed, glancing at Vince and then turning her head so that she could hear the stranger better.

Vince looked past the corner again. "Can't see anybody," he muttered. "It's not worth the risk. We'll cut around this block and try and get ahead of him. Find the mall and avoid him. We can't be far now."

Bonnie nodded and the two adults backed up, gripping the scruff of Annie's hood. The three of them turned back on themselves and made a run for it, sliding down another street parallel to the one the man had been standing in, talking to someone nearby.

They ran for a good few minutes until they were sure the man was far enough behind that he wouldn't catch up, eventually stopping in a more built-up, industrial area of the town. Annie pressed her back against the wall, chest heaving as she attempted to catch her breath. Bonnie placed her hands on her knees and hunched over, almost gagging. "Shouldn't'a run on an empty stomach." she groaned, "Been feelin' sick all day."

Annie looked away from Bonnie instinctively, fearing that the woman would throw up. As she did so, she caught Vince looking around feverishly, his neck twisting this way and that as he scanned the area. Annie stared at him for a few moments, waiting for him to explain himself.

It took another twenty seconds but the man finally uttered something. "I recognise this road."

Bonnie ceased her spluttering and looked up. "What?" she croaked. In response Vince merely turned and dashed further down the street, a determined look on his face. Annie followed casually, but Bonnie only staggered, still unwell.

"It's here!" Vince said, looking around yet another corner. "It's fucking here! We made it!"

Annie felt a grin emerge on her face as she caught up to the man. Sure enough, when she looked past the corner, she saw the familiar sight of the Eastland Mall. More battered and bruised than she remembered it, but recognisable nontheless and with no walkers in sight.

Vince walked briskly down the adjoining street, heading straight for the parking lot. Annie followed along, a light chuckle emanating from her mouth as she reached over her shoulder and retrieved the felt-tip-lined map which had been sticking out of her backpack. She couldn't quite remember all of the turns and twists, but the mall was right in front of her, so she didn't need to.

They made their way to the parking lot, Vince vaulting over the wall and then reaching back over so that he could help Annie over. Bonnie was regaining her composure a couple of metres back, but Vince and Annie were eager to get to safety. The doors welcomed them from afar, beckoning them into the shade, desperate to free them from the summer heat. Annie looked at Vince and laughed for the first time in a long while.

"We made it." She sighed, relieved.

The three of them revelled in the silence that fell over the parking lot as they graciously ambled over to the mall. They did not need words any more – after all, they were finally safe.

Or, rather, they _would_ have been, if not for the gunshot that fired through the air and the bullet that embedded itself in the asphalt at Vince's feet. The man looked up for a sign of any type of thread and groaned when he caught sight of a man standing atop the roof, wielding a rifle.

"That was a warning shot!" the stranger yelled through a megaphone. "Saw you all coming from a mile off. Don't make any sudden moves or reach for your weapons because my friend down there will see it."

"_Friend?" _Annie thought. She looked over her shoulder and found herself gulping. Behind them, aiming a familiar weapon was the man who had they had been following earlier.

The man pulled back the string of his crossbow, aiming it at Bonnie. This close up Annie could make out every detail of his face; the numerous bags below his eyes, the tiny pinpricks of hair that covered his chin, and the light grimace on his face.

"Don't try anything stupid," he warned, "You don't want to get hurt."


	6. Chapter 6 - Vantage

**Day 1058**

**Vince**

Scowling, Vince looked up at the sniper on the rooftop. "Who are you?" he yelled. "What are you doing here?"

The megaphone screeched as the man threw it away, instead using both hands to take aim at Vince's chest. "Doesn't matter who I am!" he called back, "We live here, and we don't appreciate people just wandering in!"

"Doesn't seem like there's a whole lot of 'em," Bonnie muttered. "Could probably take both of 'em from cover."

"Not worth the risk." Vince snarled. He looked back up at the sniper, holding out his hand, but letting the other rest on the handle of his machete. "Look," he began, "We've come from a different state to get here, we've walked for _months._"

"Don't give me that shit." the stranger replied. "How do I know you're not just making that up? How do you even know about us?"

Vince looked over his shoulder at the other man who was holding them up. The stranger shrugged sympathetically and lowered his weapon slightly. "It would probably help if you put your weapons down."

Eyeing the man, suspicious, Vince withdrew his machete and allowed it to clatter to the ground uselessly. Annie followed suit immediately, but he had to throw Bonnie an accusing glance to get her to surrender. The foreign stranger paced around them until he was between them and the doors to the mall. Keeping his crossbow trained on Vince he reached for his belt and withdrew a walkie talkie.

"_Of course._" Vince realised. "_That's who he was talking to when we saw him before. He was probably telling Lee Harvey Oswald up there that we were behind him. Then again, he probably wouldn't lead us here if they wanted us to just leave._"

"Need some help out front." The man began, pressing the transmit button. "I yust got back and we're tied up wit some strangers. We're stuck on what to do."

A muffled voice returned the man's call and he pressed the radio to his chest to muffle any transmissions he made. "She's coming." he announced, rolling his eyes in his head theatrically. "_Hon är en riktig stridsyxa __ibland_."

Not knowing much of any foreign language, Vince didn't know what the man had just said. Maybe he had sentenced them to death, but it seemed more likely that he was making a comment about the anonymous woman.

Vince didn't need to ponder much more. The woman herself dashed through the front doors of the mall, pistol already aimed at them. The sight was almost nostalgic – how many times had Vince been through this? Once, twice, three times? Once with bandits, then again with a group who later became friends. It seemed he was never on the dominant side, and that pissed him off.

"Weapons down." The woman ordered, her grip on the pistol so tight that Vince could practically make out the veins on her arms.

"They are down." Vince shrugged, pointing at the machete on the ground.

The foreign man sighed, eyeing the newcomer. "No need for dat, I yust need a second opinion. Lyle seems to want them gone."

The woman lowered her weapon and brushed some brown hair out of her face. She wore a brown-orange shirt beneath a similarly coloured bodywarmer jacket. Her small nose wrinkled and her eyes thinned as she looked up at the man on the roof, then back to her other ally. "Lyle wants them gone," she muttered.

"Ja."

The woman looked back at Vince's group. By now Vince had guessed that the man on the roof was named Lyle, because he had made his intentions evident – he wanted to drive them out. Whether it was for his own safety or whether he was just sadistic was yet to be seen, however.

Vince felt oddly optimistic about this place. Unlike Sanctum, who had actively welcomed survivors for their own twisted use, this group was trying to push people out. That seemed to suggest that they weren't looking to lure people in, and if they had wanted to rob him, they would have done so already.

"Look," Vince sighed, "We just want somewhere to stay. I'm sick of running around, away from the dead, sick of bullshit and death and losing everyone we care about. I've got a kid to take care of and I owe it to the people I've lost to give her the best chance at surviving. We've been aiming to get here for months, we've been before and figured it would be easy to fortify and set up a good place. We're not bandits. We've killed bandits, killed plenty of bad people, but _we're_ not bad people. We're just people who want to live."

The woman looked at them, her expression buckling as she shook her head. "I... I can't. I'm sorry."

The crossbow wielder looked at her. "I won't be able to live with myself if we turn dem away. They have a kid. They've been praying for safety and we have the space for them."

The woman looked at him through the corner of her eye. "I wasn't saying sorry to _them_, Anders. I told myself I'd turn people away, just keep things small and under control, but I can't do that." She looked at Vince sympathetically. "I'm sorry about holding you up."

Vince shook his head, tight lipped. "Can't say I wouldn't have done the same. Been through similar things before – came out a lot worse."

Anders smiled at them. "Don't worry about dat shit any more. We're all safe in here." He turned to lead them inside, then paused and looked at the woman. Slinging his crossbow over his shoulder, he raised his radio again and spoke through it. "Lyle, we're lettin them in."

A message from the man on the roof came back quickly. "They're cool?" he asked, surprised.

"Yeah, just a man, a woman and a little kid."

A gasp was heard through the device. "Shit, there was a kid? I could barely make them out. I could only really see the guy."

Shrugging, Anders turned and began walking towards the opening of the mall. The woman followed close behind and after some hesitation Vince's group fell into formation, making sure they remembered to grab their weaponry from the ground.

As the five people passed over the threshold, Vince was overcome with nostalgia again. The last time he had been here was shortly after Shel's death, with Annie, Miles, Ralph, Russell, Becca and Wyatt. It seemed like aeons ago but it had truly only been six or seven months.

The mall looked no worse for wear – in fact it looked better. When he'd left he had been running from a herd but the undead were nowhere to be seen, and after that everything went to shit. Vince tried to block it out.

"So, how many have you got here?" Bonnie asked, breaking the awed silence. Looking around Vince could see one or two people milling about. Most of the stores were closed off but a few remained open – living quarters, he presumed.

"Maybe a dozen or so." The woman replied.

"Maya doesn't like to keep track." Anders muttered. "Always thinks dat if someone dies she has to cross them off an imaginary list."

Maya glanced at him. "That's not what I said. You make it sound like I try and forget people."

Anders looked back over his shoulder. "You could probably help quite a bit. Looks like you're packing some seerious heat, ya'know?" he eyed Bonnie's rifle in particular. "We've only got Lyle up on the roof for now. I won't envy him when the tunder and lightning starts."

Vince decided to put his curiosity to rest. "Your accent..." he asked, "Where are you from?"

Anders pressed a thumb to his puffed-out chest. "Sverige." He announced proudly. When Vince, Annie and Bonnie stared at him dumbly, he lost his confidence and muttered "Sweden."

"Anders came over on a business trip a couple of years ago." Maya informed them. "Then everything went to shit and he was stranded."

"Luckily I'm an... 'outdoorsman', as you say." Anders chuckled, running his hand through his thinning hair. "Survived on my own, den formed a group. Later on we came here."

"Why don't we show you around and introduce you all?" Maya asked, "We'll give you a store... _room _each and you can settle in. Or would you prefer to share?"

Vince shrugged. "I don't know – Annie?"

Annie looked up at him. "I want to stay with you." she mumbled, gripping hold of his wrist. Bonnie groaned at the gesture.

"Looks like the lady's made her decision." Maya smiled. "Annie, is it?" She crouched in front of Annie and looked her in the eyes, a serious tone falling onto her face. "You know what kind of name Annie is, don't you?"

Annie's eyes widened with fear. "What... sort of name?" she replied.

Maya smiled and patted the child on the head, attempting to win her over. "Only the best name for a little princess." She looked up at the two adults as Annie attempted to hold back a grin and asked, "And you two are..?"

"Vince and Bonnie." The former answered, to-the-point. Maya seemed a bit discouraged by the lackluster introduction but continued anyway. "So, Vince, Bonnie, Annie. I guess the only thing left to say is 'Welcome home'."


	7. Chapter 7 - Chat

**Day 1058**

**Annie**

Annie sat on a bed in the room she shared with Vince. Not a makeshift bed, not a pile of blankets, but an actual bed. The mall had a large stockpile of furniture which had been left behind during the apocalypse. Anders had put the thing together while she observed and held the occassional screw for him, but the furniture slowly began to test the Swede's patience and he gave up, saying he would come back and finish it later once he'd calmed down. Between his leaving and his return, Maya had already showed up, put the bed together and helped Annie sort her sheets out in ten minutes.

The covers were a pale pink sort of colour; not Annie's choice, but she was too timid to send Maya all the way back to wherever she had retrieved them just to change the colour. The woman was kind to her for now, but Annie could sense an air of guilt whenever they were in the same room. She must have felt bad about even considering to turn them away, but as far as Annie was concerned it wasn't a big deal. She understood.

Vince had been put on rooftop guard duty with Lyle. The sniper wanted to apologise for acting up and needed a hand up there anyway. Bonnie had been taken down to the 'sick bay' as she had been feeling unwell; apparently it was only an upset stomach but no one was really sure. Maya and Anders had insisted that the doctor there would get things sorted out.

Her palms pressing into the soft bedding, Annie eyed a set of drawers on the other side of the room. As far as she could tell, from what remained of the displays, her room was a small clothing retailer. Most of the shelves and racks had been removed some time between her first visit to the mall seven months ago and the present day. She had taken the liberty of unpacking her things, trying to hold back her emotions as she placed various items of miscellanea on top of it. She had developed a sort of trend for picking up items from people she lost along the way; it began with a man named Daniel passing her his hat while lying in a haze of blood loss. The next item was from a teenager named Mitchell, who had given her his binoculars knowing that she was a 'collector'. Becca had been the one to actually present her with the item because Mitchell was suffering the pain of a bite at the time, but the boy had specifically stated he wanted her to keep hold of it as he feared being forgotten. She had hung Becca's jacket from a lamp that was of no use.

The last item was the most painful. After Wyatt had been shot he had shared a few words with Annie, but they had eventually faded into muffled phrases that she could no longer decipher. What she did remember, however, was Wyatt passing her his glasses on his deathbed before Bonnie dragged her away. Though the spectacles were dusty and cracked beyond repair thanks to the months of travel, Annie couldn't look through the lenses without seeing Wyatt on the other side, like a window to the afterlife. It was a small comfort and she was glad he had given them to her.

She was waiting for Maya. After helping Annie tidy her bed the woman had said she wanted to chat; not an interview or anything of the sort, just a friendly chat. Annie was glad – last time she'd had an 'induction meeting' she had betrayed herself by being too trusting, ending up drugged and waking up several hours later in a hospital bed. Maya had promised that the talk wouldn't affect her place at the mall, she just wanted to get to know the girl a little bit.

Annie smiled. Things were finally looking up – she, Vince and Bonnie had finally found a safe haven. It would have been nice for Becca or Wyatt or any of the others to have been there with them, but she had to make do with what she was given. She could make new friends – she'd seen one or two children around, slightly older than her but still children – just as Vince already had. If the other kids didn't like her she always had the adults. Vince and Bonnie were a given, but Anders seemed extremely kind too and Maya had changed her tune soon after meeting them all. Even Lyle was a lot calmer once he knew the score.

Annie looked to her right as something moved in the corner of her eye. Walking beneath the open, metallic shutter of Annie's new room, Maya smiled and waved her over. "Wanna talk?" The woman asked.

Nodding, the eight-year-old leapt off of her bed and walked over the tiled floor to the woman. Maya pressed a hand to her back, turning her lightly tanned face to stare at the open space outside. Annie walked with her, into the main hall of the shopping centre, waiting for the adult to speak first.

"I couldn't let a kid stay out there," Maya sighed, avoiding the child's gaze. "If it had just been your two friends I would have probably turned them away, but you were the decider, kid. Couldn't leave you to the dead and the bandits."

Annie nodded. "People always think of me like that."

"What do you mean?"

Annie shrugged and looked up at the brown shirted woman. "People always think I'm a little kid who people are just looking after, but I save them sometimes too."

Patting the child on the back, Maya looked down at her again. "How so?" she asked, smirking. "You some sort of crack shot? Saved someone from being eaten before?"

"Actually, yeah." Annie nodded. "And this one time I ran all night in the rain to find help when they were trapped in a bad place."

Maya nodded. "Y'know, some of the people here treat _me_ like a kid just 'cause I don't have a dick. I swear... the amount of times some guy has tried to be my knight in shining armour. I'm just not into that, y'know? Never had a thing for heroics."

Annie shrugged, slightly confused. She had no idea what the woman was talking about, but she did remember the last time someone had saved her heroically and while she had survived, it hadn't been pretty for the hero. Unlike Maya, she didn't resent it. "People saving me let me get here," she admitted, "If they hadn't done things... if _I _hadn't done bad things to people I never would've got here."

Maya's face fell. "Have you ever... killed anybody?"

Annie did not answer immediately, the events playing over in her head again; a man pushing her to the ground, knocking her pistol loose, how she grabbed the weapon and pumped one bullet into his chest. She stopped herself from pursuing the memory, not wanting to recall what came next. "One time." she mumbled. "But he was bad and he hurt my friend."

"Which friend?" Maya asked, intrigued. "Vince or Bonnie?"

Annie shook her head and stared at the ground as they strolled. "Neither."

Maya mirrored the child's actions, looking at the floor as she regretted asking the question. "I didn't need to ask that," she sighed. "I've done it too. People who deserved it, people who didn't deserve it. I've put people down after they were bitten, and it never feels right. If it does feel right then you're probably not human. I'm sorry. Probably made you remember some things you didn't want to remember."

"I'm okay." Annie grunted. Maya remained silent for a while, walking aimlessly as Annie followed. Annie caught her eye for a moment and then looked away, only succeeding in making her look more guilty.

"Anyway," the woman sighed after what seemed like an eternity of silence, "You're safe here now, you don't need to worry about that sort of thing. We're in this for the long haul and we're gonna make it out alive."

Annie pursed her lips and thought to herself before asking Maya another question. "How do I help everyone here?"

Maya looked at her and raised her eyebrows. "You don't have to pull your weight, you're only a kid."

"I want to help, though. You just said people treating _you _like a kid annoys you and it's the same for me. How do I help people here? What can I do? Who do I ask – who's in charge?" Annie stopped and crossed her arms, determined to carve a niche for herself in this place. She wasn't going to sit in her room for days, weeks or months at a time. She needed to keep herself occupied.

"Uhhh..." Maya looked into thin air as she pondered over Annie's questions. "No one's really in charge of the whole place. Lyle's our security guy, Anders makes sure the area around the mall is safe, but I'm don't really wanna put you outside until you're... y'know, bigger. You could hang around with me in here, though – do some things inside the mall rather than the more dangerous stuff. You could be my apprentice - or you could make sure I do my job."

Annie raised her eyebrows at the idea. "I can do it." she announced, pumping her clenched fists – keen to get to work, but followed the action up by smirking impishly. "The second one."

Maya smiled and crouched down, offering the child her hand. "Well come on, then, your highness, there's no time like the present to make sure your slave is doing her work."

Grinning, Annie took her new friend's hand and they dashed off to work. She appreciated the fact that someone was truly interested in being her friend, but part of her felt like she was filling a hole left by someone else. That said it seemed like Maya appreciated the company even more so than Annie did.

The two of them strolled briskly through the main hall of the mall, eager to get to work – whatever that entailed. Annie watched a nearby group of people break away and get back to maintaining a barrier that blocked a smashed window, spying something she swore she had seen before amongst them. Deciding it was probably just a trick of the light sparking a memory of her last visit to the mall, she shrugged it off, turned to Maya and continued walking. After all, she had things to do.


	8. Chapter 8 - Scope

**Day 1058**

**Vince**

Vince stood on the rooftop, a scoped rifle over one shoulder. Lyle had invited him up there so that they had more eyes on the perimeter, but also so that he could apologise. Vince hadn't got a good look at him before – he had a mop of light brown hair and reddish cheeks, small eyes and the only place he was growing any facial hair seemed to be his chin, which was patchy to boot.

"Sorry about the threats, pal," Lyle apologised, tight-lipped. "You can never be too sure, you know? We've had some dodgy people come here before and they've almost ruined things by slipping in. I didn't know whether to trust you or not until Anders told me there was a kid with you. Didn't even see her from up here." The man zipped up his blue-and-white hoodie and gave Vince a sympathetic look. "I get pretty paranoid up here on my own, so it'll be good to have someone I hope I can trust watching my back."

Vince smirked. "I'm not going to stab you as soon as your back's turned. So, are you up here all day, every day or what?"

Lyle turned and carried his own rifle over to a folding chair that was placed at the front of the roof, facing the parking lot. Judging by the lamps, candles, spare ammunition, books, empty cans and wrappers, it seemed like he had made a place for himself up on the roof. "I tag out with a guy sometimes. I think he'll be up later."

Satisfied, Vince glanced around the roof. "So, where do you want me?"

Lyle jerked his head towards an upturned crate. "Sit on that for now, keep an eye on the east side. I've got the west. We're looking for anyone alive. We'll scope 'em out before they see us and take it from there – it's what I did with you guys."

"And the dead?" Vince asked.

"Ignore them. There's never too many – Anders and some guys go around the perimeter every morning and clear them out anyway." Lyle informed him. "The most I've seen in one day is about five. They seem to avoid us now, maybe they know we're finally getting somewhere."

"I'm just glad this isn't a bad place," Vince muttered, shaking his head. "I've had my fair share of shitty deals in the past."

Lyle chuckled. "Tell me about it. I used to trade supplies with some guys and they kept short changing me. This was a long time ago, just after everything went to shit. I gave up on them one day and just ran for it. I think they chased me for a while but I lost them soon enough. Got here about two months ago – I think this place has been going for about twice that. I was one of the last to join up before you and the other two."

"That 'Maya' girl seemed like she wanted to keep the place small, but she didn't turn us away." Vince muttered.

"Maya's a bit of a special one." Lyle admitted. "She doesn't know what she wants – doesn't know whether or not she wants to be in charge, whether or not she wants to start scavenging with some of the others. She never makes her mind up about much – that's why I'm glad she's not in charge."

Vince glanced down at the parking lot, realising he had neglected to do the job he had been given. He was supposed to be looking out for survivors. His sentry skills were a bit rusty. "Who _is _in charge?" he asked.

"Eh, we've got a committee sort of thing going." Lyle said. "Some of the more important members come together and vote on stuff when they need to. That'd be me, Maya, Anders and a few others, but don't worry, we're not gonna vote on you staying or going. You're here now, and we've got the space."

Vince furrowed his brow. "Y'know, you're a lot different now than you were when you were pointing a gun at me."

"Bad first impression. Sorry about that." Lyle mumbled. "I have a bit of a pissy mean streak. I dunno, but I think you get used to it. I get all defensive about shit – because I've lost people before."

"Who hasn't?"

Lyle allowed a huff of air to escape his nostril as he exhaled, memories presumably flooding back. "Yes- yeah, you're right. Don't doubt that you've lost more than I have, I've hid away from it all but you've been travelling all this time, right?"

Vince looked up in thought, his eyes shifting around as he did so. "I think the quality of the people you lose is worse than the number. I've seen too many good people die for shitty reasons."

Lyle wiped his nose with a forefinger and thumb. "Ain't _that_ the truth?"

The conversation ceased. Vince focused on looking through his scope for any intruders, but his search came up empty. Binoculars probably would've worked better for such a task – perhaps he'd ask Annie if he could borrow Mitchell's.

Something started moving back and forth in the corner of his eye and he turned to look at it. Lyle's knee was bobbing up and down as he fidgeted in place, clearly not all that enthused by the hours of guard duty even though he had been doing it for so long. "You bored?" he asked.

Lyle shook his head. "Not bored, just eager to get this over and done with. Don't like being out here after dark, so I'm glad I don't have to do this as long as usual. Bit... creepy up here in the dark on your own, especially when you can hear everyone below you. Feels like someone could sneak up on me at any moment and no one would know."

"Well, you _are_ a guard, you're supposed to know whether someone's around or not."

"Yeah, but sometimes I get... false positives. That feeling where someone's behind you, but when I look round nobody's there."

Vince chuckled. "That's called paranoia. Being paranoid isn't exactly the best mental state for a guard."

"You know, it's not too late for me to change my decision on letting you stay. I could... kick you off of the roof and nobody would know." Lyle grinned.

Vince shrugged and got to his feet, confident no one was going to show up around the mall for now. "No one would notice." he muttered nonchalantly."Aside from everyone who would see me flash past the window along with whoever found my undead corpse getting up from a bloody puddle."

Lyle got to his feet and turned to face the door that led back down to the mall, greeting someone who had appeared there with the words "Hey, man." They must have opened the door while Vince was talking, his focus already tied between the parking lot and structuring his sentence. He didn't look over his shoulder immediately, assuming that it was Anders who had something to tell Lyle, but curiosity got the better of him and he allowed himself a quick glance.

The appearance of the newcomer shocked him so much that he climbed to his feet. The man was tall, stocky with dark skin and a large tuft of black hair. Stubble covered the bottom half of his head and he had a permanent mask of confusion for a face. As soon as the man made eye contact he took a fearful step back and raised his hands slightly to show he was unarmed.

Vince pushed himself to his feet, eyes narrowing as he stormed towards the man. Lyle glanced at him, unsure what was going on until Vince raised his rifle and smacked the newcomer around the face with the stock of his gun. The man winced in pain but was strong enough that the blow didn't even knock him down.

"Whoa, whoa!" Lyle cried, restraining Vince's arms before he could strike again. "What the fuck, man?"

Vince turned to face Lyle, breaking free of the man's attempts to hold him back. "I _know _this piece of shit!" he yelled. "He's a motherfucking bandit! Last time I was here this prick and his group chased us and killed half our group!"

"What the fuck...?" Lyle repeated, looking past Vince and at the man who was wiping his injured face. "What's he talking about?"

"Tell him!" Vince demanded. "Tell him about everyone you helped kill!"

"Don, is he telling the truth?" Lyle pressed, eyes wide as he looked from one man to the other. "What the heck?"

Lyle pressed a hand into Vince's chest and shoved him back. "Yeah, I am!" Vince yelled, diving for the man again, gripping hold of the fabric of his shirt, "_You _got to live! You killed my friends! Miles, Russell, Daniel, Lucia!"

"She's alive!" Donald cried back. "For God's sake, she's alive! Lucia's alive!"

Vince was dumbfounded, all anger draining from his form. He took a step back in shock, pausing for a few seconds until something collided with the back of his head and knocked him flat. He hit the ground, barely conscious and saw Lyle standing over him, the butt of his own rifle raised.

"Fuck," the guard said, looking from Vince to Donald. "It's the only way I could get him to stop. We need to get this shit sorted out."


	9. Chapter 9 - Shatter

**Day 1058**

**Annie**

Annie and Maya's first job had been to go over the mall's supplies and make sure no one was embezzling. Maya had a large list that she checked each day to make sure everything added up, making a note of all the supplies that she used. Between leaving her room and leaving the stockroom, Annie had met a lot of the members of the community, counting just over twenty including Maya, Anders and Lyle. She hadn't been introduced to the doctor yet but Maya ensured that they were nice, if a bit dejected.

They were on their way to talk to one of the few people Annie hadn't met yet. He was allegedly one of the first people to join the mall group but had been in a bit of a poor mood for a long time. From what Annie had heard, he had showed up alone, injured, saying how his entire group had been brutally murdered.

Maya stopped outside what seemed to be a fast food restaurant. A large counter was very close to the front of the store, running all the way across the small room. Behind the counter was a door that led further inside, left ajar. As far as Annie could tell the room inside was left in the dark.

"This is it." Maya told her.

"Where is he?" Annie asked.

"In back." The adult led the child to the counter, lifted up a hinged section of the work surface and moved through towards the door. Once they were both behind the counter Maya lightly rapped her knuckles on the door before letting herself in. She led Annie into the room where they caught sight of a man of about eighteen or nineteen lying on a mattress, facing the wall.

"Gary, you awake?" Maya called calmly, her voice telling the man that she came in peace. "We've let some new people in, one of them's here to meet you."

Gary slowly pushed himself into a seated position, wiping his eyes and looking at the two people who had interrupted his rest. "Oh," he mumbled, "Right."

"Hi." Annie muttered meekly. Despite his age, Gary was quite densely built, with large muscles and broad shoulders. He had a square jaw and longish brown hair along with small eyes and stubble.

"Gary, this is Annie." Maya said, introducing them. "She arrived today with two others."

"Doing the rounds? 'Spect Maya already told you about how I got here." Gary looked dejected.

Annie shook her head. "Not really." she admitted. "Just that your group isn't around any more."

"We got attacked – doesn't matter who by. I got told to run, I left them behind." Gary sighed. "My family, my friends. Maya checks up on me every day but I'm not feeling any better."

Maya patted the man's shoulder to show her support. "You'll get there, but you'll probably do better if you actually show your face instead of sitting in a dark room all day."

Gary shrugged. "I dunno. I'm thinking of going with Anders and scavenging or something."

"Just do something to get out." Maya suggested, guiding the young adult to his feet. "Come on, come for a walk with me and Annie, take your mind off things."

Gary didn't look encouraged, slouching with discomfort, but followed Maya as she showed her two followers to the exit. Annie gave the man a concerned look but he didn't see her looking at him. Gary reminded her of a teenager called Mitchell, but instead of hating everyone and everything, Gary seemed to feel guilty about everything and neglected himself.

The two of them followed their guide out of Gary's room and into the main hall of the mall where several people were milling around. Tension was buzzing in the air. "What's going on?" Maya asked, snapping from the calm and supportive tone to the more commanding and blunt one Annie had heard her speak with when they had first approached the mall. "Don't you all have jobs to do?"

"Something's happened." a woman said. "Lyle and the new guy were supposed to switch out but it's been at least ten minutes since Don went up there. No one's come down."

Gary frowned, making contact with Annie as he tilted his head in her direction, his mouth a concerned crescent.

"Well, has anyone gone up to look?" Maya pressed impatiently.

The woman shook her head. "We're waiting for Anders."

Groaning, Maya looked around the group of five or so community members. "It's just checking the roof, Carla. Do you really need Anders to do that for you?"

Annie wasn't sure, but it was starting to seem like there were two types of people in the mall; those like Maya, Lyle and Anders who seemed self sufficient, and those like Gary and the woman in front of her who relied on them. Annie wasn't sure which group she fell in, but she hoped Maya hadn't already made an assumption and shifted her into the group of 'burdens'.

A door opened in a solitary corner of the room, causing everyones' heads to turn around. Annie gasped as she saw a weary Vince being pushed along by Lyle. Following behind them was a tall, dark-skinned man with a large tuft of hair on his head and a green jacket that almost reached his knees. Annie narrowed her eyes as she studied him, trying to place him. For a second she thought he was Bennett but that man carried himself a lot differently – a lot more confidently. This not-so-strange stranger was more hunched over, more uncertain of himself.

Then Annie caught on. She had last seen the man six or seven months ago in the same state as the mall she currently stood in, albeit a few miles north. She, Vince, Becca and Wyatt had forcibly dealt with a group of bandits – all except for one. Vince had allowed the man to live, determined to prove that he wasn't as bad as the bandits were. Letting that man live had allowed him to worm his way into a settlement who didn't know of his true nature.

Annie's train of thought was cut off as someone gripped her shoulders and pulled her back. "I've got the new kid!" a man cried. "What did the guy do?"

Maya glanced at Annie, a betrayed look on her face. Turning to face Lyle and the bandit Annie now recognised as Donald, the woman called out. "What's going on?"

Lyle looked at Maya, confused as anyone else. "I don't know, he just snapped and attacked Don out of nowhere. Said he was a bandit and shit."

"Bullshit!" the man grappling Annie growled. "Don's no bandit, they wormed their way in here so that they could kill us all and now they're using that bullshit to save themselves."

Vince was barely awake, unable to argue. From what Annie could tell it seemed like he had taken at least one heavy hit so that Lyle could force him down to the main hall. "Well, what are you gonna do?" Maya asked.

"Gonna take him to sick bay to get his head checked." Lyle informed her, pushing Vince as he started walking again. "Had to knock him pretty hard to stop him. We'll go from there."

"Kick 'em out!" someone jeered from behind. "They're trouble!"

Maya glared at the crowd – which was slowly growing – and looked back to Donald. "You okay?" she asked.

"Yeah." the man grumbled, his voice deep and gruffly.

"Stay here. I'm gonna sort this out." Maya looked at Annie for a second and then turned to lead Lyle away. "I'll be back in two minutes." she said. "Don't worry."

The woman's words had an effect on Donald, who turned and spotted Annie, his face turning pale as he made the connection between her and Vince. He was probably terrified that Wyatt and Becca would show up imminently to expose him, but Annie knew that wouldn't happen.

"Take the kid to the sick bay with the other guy." someone commanded, shoving the person who was gripping Annie's shoulders. "Maya's too soft on them."

Annie felt relieved as someone prised the strangers hands off of her. "Let her go." Gary appealed. "I'll do it." He gripped Annie's arm – incredibly gently – and pulled her in the same direction Lyle and Maya had taken Vince. "Can't stay here with them," he muttered, "Can't stay here."

As she was dragged over to the sick bay, Annie looked over her shoulder and caught sight of Donald being questioned by the other members of the settlement. In just a few short minutes, the illusion of a safe haven had been shattered.


	10. Chapter 10 - Questions

**Day 1058**

**Vince**

It had taken a few minutes but Vince eventually came to in an store dedicated to opticianry. The walls were halved in regards to their colour – the top was a lime green and the bottom was a navy blue. He was sitting in a form of cubicle and he could see a Snellen chart dead ahead on the opposing wall. He didn't think it was the best choice for a sick bay considering he knew there was a drug store elsewhere in the mall.

Studying his surroundings was his method of keeping his mind from racing following recent transpirations. Why did Donald, of all people, get to be the one who was still alive? Why not Wyatt or Becca? Hell, even Tyler would have been a welcome substitute.

Maya and Lyle were standing in front of him. The woman had her arms crossed and was tapping her foot impatiently, while the man was slouching against a table in the middle of the room, upon which a single flashlight rested. If not for the solitary beam of light, the room would be a whole lot darker. Perhaps not pitch black, but it would be considerably harder to see.

Annie was in the room too. A teenager – or someone in their twenties, Vince could not tell – had dropped her off and had departed hastily. Bonnie remained unaccounted for, which was odd considering Vince had thought her to be at the sick bay too. Perhaps she had already departed, only for someone to catch her and drag her back down to the place she had just left.

Maya finally broke the silence.

"What do you think you were playing at?" she asked, her eyes thinning as she studied him. Vince avoided her gaze and looked back at his feet. He was sitting on a stool, elbows resting on his knees as he stared at the ground. "You've pretty much jeopardised your - and Annie's - position here!"

Lyle shook his head. "You're not helping yourself by being quiet, man. Just tell us what you were doing."

Maya started pacing back and forth, eyes locked on Vince all the while. Vince leaned back against the wall and placed his hands behind his head, interlocking his fingers.

"Donald's a bandit." he muttered.

Lyle shook his head. "Don's one of our most trusted people. He was one of the first here - fuck, _the _first. Probably wasn't worth acting up like this on your first day. Y'know what people are gonna think now?"

Vince leaned forwards. "_Don _shot one of my friends to death. _Don _let one of my friends get killed. _Don _lied to you."

"Don's been here longer than most and in all that time he's never hurt anyone." Maya told him. "He helped get the ball moving here. You think he'd really let the people here grow to a number he couldn't deal with if he did have ulterior motives? Even if he was a bandit, he's changed."

Vince chuckled dully. "People like him don't change."

"Annie?" Maya asked, turning her attention to the child. "What do you say about this? Are you gonna back Vince up?"

Annie was staring at her feet as they swung like pendulums from her chair. She muttered something but her words were too quiet to hear, prompting Maya to request that she speak up.

"He let people die." Annie explained sadly, ignoring Maya's gaze. "And he hurt people too. He's a bad person."

"Would Bonnie back you guys up on this too?" Lyle asked.

Vince shook his head. "She wasn't there at the time. She was with us a couple of weeks before, but we... parted ways and we found her again a couple of months down the line."

"So," Lyle said, looking at Maya. "What are we gonna do?"

"I don't know." Maya shrugged, pausing and resting against the table. "We could ask Don, get him to answer honestly. I trust him, he was probably trying to make a fresh start for himself, but now the 'truth's' out I doubt he'd deny it."

A door to the side of the room, next to Annie, opened and Bonnie walked inside. She looked slightly better than when Vince had last seen her – a lot less ill. Catching Vince looking at her, Bonnie raised her hands and said, "I'm fine. Just hungry – that's what brought on the sickness." She pushed her way into the room and was followed by a familiar face – unlike Donald, it was a more welcome one this time.

Vince had been expecting it after what Donald had said. Though he recognised Lucia instantly, it took a moment for things to be reciprocated on her end. She looked at Vince for a second, then her eyes fell on Annie.

"Oh, no." she muttered.

"You know them?" Maya asked.

Lyle shrugged. "If Don knows them, and Lucia was with Don I guess it makes sense."

"You were with him?" Vince asked, pushing himself to his feet and walking over to the woman. "But what about what he did to us all those months ago?"

The hispanic nurse shook her head and spoke again. "It was rough after what happened, being left alone. I heard all the gunshots, heard the fighting while I hid. Then Donald showed up. He saved me." she lifted her right hand and Vince took a step back as he saw the end of her sleeve knotted just below the elbow. "I was bit at the Outpost." Lucia explained. "I got away, but I was still bit. Donald found me and said he could help. I struggled to get away for a while but eventually I just gave in. The arm was always going to be useless after Donald's group practically turned it inside out."

Vince finally reached her and pressed a reassuring hand to her shoulder. "I'm sorry we left you behind."

"Not as sorry as me." Lucia chuckled, turn to hug Annie. "I would have just slowed you down anyway. I'm just glad we did the amputation. For a long time I wanted to be with Daniel, but Donald said it'd be pointless to let myself die to. We sort of took things slow; there was a lot of hate between us - he helped kill Daniel and I think he eventually got bored of me hating him. When things were a little bit better between us we came back to this mall and the herd had cleared out. We started up this community, Donald went out one day to look for survivors and I thought he wouldn't come back, but he did. And Anders was with him." she paused, and allowed herself to breathe before asking, "How have things been with you?"

"Things got worse after we left Indiana," Vince told the woman, "so you were probably better off not coming with us. Too many people died from then on."

Lucia looked from Vince to Annie. "Are you all that's left?"

Vince nodded grimly. "And Bonnie, though I take it you two have already met." The southerner unfolded one of her crossed arms and raised it in a half-hearted greeting. If Vince and Annie trusted this stranger it stood to reason that she probably should too.

"Yeah, we got to know each other a little. But, listen - Donald never told me about the fight. Did Wyatt and Becca get killed there? Did Donald's group all get away?"

Vince shook his head again. "You don't need to worry about the bandits. I dealt with Ivan personally, Donald was the only one who got away - and that's because we let him. We lost Wyatt and Becca a lot later."

Maya pushed herself between the old friends. "Can we get this straight?" she asked. "Vince tried to attack Donald when they first... reunited. Is he, or is he not, a bandit?"

Lucia shrugged. "He was. But not any more. If Vince attacked him and everything he needed to know wasn't laid out in from of him I can't blame him."

"I guess that's sorted then." Lyle muttered, turning to leave. "I'll go and tell Donald we know everything. Hopefully he won't go beserk because of it."

"I'll come with and make sure he doesn't." Maya told him. "Lucia, make sure you keep an eye on these three."

The two members of the mall left the room, shutting the door quite harshly behind them. Lucia turned to look at Vince and wiggled her stump. "I'm still not used to this," she admitted. "Surprised I actually lived. I blacked out a couple of times but Donald stuck with me."

Vince raised his eyebrows as Lucia turned to examine the injury on the back of his head. "I still don't fully trust him. I don't know what people are gonna think of me after what I did to him."

Annie reached for his wrist and got his attention. "They said they might throw us out."

Lucia crouched and looked at the child. "I'm sure we can get enough people to vouch for you that such a thing won't happen. I'll vouch for you, Anders most likely will, Maya and Lyle might too."

Annie nodded. "And Gary."

"See, you've got enough people on your side. You don't need to worry about a thing."

Vince somehow doubted that was true, but neglected to mention his concerns. "I'm glad you're alive," he admitted, "I just got pissed when I saw Donald because I thought he was the only one who made it – I didn't think he deserved it. But if he saved your life, then... just _maybe_ he does. There's so many people we lost along the way, it just _had _to be _him_ who survived, huh?"

"Come on." Lucia said, her voice receding to a more demotivated tone. Close up Vince could make out the thick bags beneath her eyes – perhaps he would have been able to see them from a distance but her stump had concerned him more. The woman pushed a door open and waved them out. "We'll go back to your rooms and talk on the way. Don't worry about any of the others – this place is a sanctuary, a place of safety. It's a haven for people like us and not the _animals_ on the outside. Donald's proved that he can redeem himself. God knows I can't forgive him for Russell or Daniel, but I can just about stand him."

Vince, Annie and Bonnie followed Lucia out of the room and they emerged back in the main hall. Smiling, the woman held her good arm aloft to allow them to take the lead.

"Don't worry," the woman said, "Everything will be fine."

* * *

><p><strong>Next Time on Into The Fray:<strong>

* * *

><p>Was it worth going back and helping?<p>

* * *

><p>A small window at the bottom of the house, level with the grassy ground. That would be their entry point.<p>

* * *

><p>"Git the fuck outta here! You din't see nuthin!"<p>

* * *

><p>"Please! Leave me alone!"<p>

* * *

><p><em>Knock, knock.<em>

* * *

><p><strong>EPISODE TWO: DON'T LOOK BACK<strong>


	11. (EP2) Chapter 11 - Alone

**AN:** Sorry about the delay. I know it's been much longer than usual but I've had a lot on my plate. The wait between episodes might be more than a week for this season, but I hope you won't hold it against me or lose interest...

* * *

><p><span><strong>Day 970<strong>

**EPISODE TWO: DON'T LOOK BACK**

Pushing herself to her feet, she ran.

Walkers all around, reaching for her through branches and leaves as she made her escape.

Sprinting away from the chaos and further into the walkers, she had no time to take anything in. All she could see was the green of the woods, the grey of the dead and her clenched fists flashing into her field of view, her arms pumping as she ran.

A walker lazily swung its arms at her and she ducked to avoid it, losing her balance and collapsing into a heap on the ground. Her forearm hit the mud first and her knees soon followed, the momentum allowing her to slide across the damp ground. She pressed her hands into to wet filth and shoved herself back to her feet, backpack rattling and swinging as it made and lost contact with her back.

Breaking back into a pant-inducing run she eyed her hands instead of her surroundings, groaning as she saw the bandage on her damaged right appendage covered in mud. She was glad that the injury had long since healed as getting dirt in the wound definitely would have presented an issue.

She kept going. The walker followed her but she vaulted a tree trunk and it was left behind. Landing awkwardly on the slippery mud she collapsed onto her hip and slid into a small trench, wincing in pain as the dead crept after her.

As she reached the bottom of the dip she pushed herself to her feet once again but felt a sharp pain jolt down her left side. Pinning her right hand there to try and prevent the pain she tried staggering along, using trees to hold herself up. Walkers were only behind her now – it seemed like she had made it through them but that wouldn't stop them coming for her. She had no idea how she had managed it.

The trees were thinning out. She could just about make out the sky now, but she wasn't sure how far behind her the town was – the town where all her friends were still fighting. Was it worth going back and helping? Or was it better to head back to the farmhouse they had left that morning, hoping that someone would come back and find her?

She decided that her priority would be to find any form of safety first, where she could tend to her wounds. She was tired, covered in mud and hurt. Clutching her injured side she wearily left the woods all too aware that one or two walkers still had her in their sights, and knowing that she wasn't in good enough shape to take them on.

Staggering into a field, grass almost reaching her thighs, she sighed with relief when she saw an old, derelict house sitting at its centre with a small shed closer to her position. Groaning weakly, she glanced over her shoulder and struggled to continue onward.

In a way she was surprised that she had survived. Her backpack hung loosely on her shoulders, her jacket was torn and she was covered in filth, but she was alive. The walkers had lost interest in her for the most part and she had found some sort of safety. It would be a good enough place to stop and rest while she let her mind tick over as she thought about what to do next.

Moving slowly and taking deep, wheezing breaths, the girl collapsed and allowed her shoulder to fall against the shed. She had been hoping to make it to the house in the field but perhaps that was not a wise idea as it may have still contained walkers. Instead, she opted to drag herself across the red, flakey-painted wooden wall of the shed, round the corner and towards its door. She doubted any of the dead would hide in a glorified outdoor closet.

Hoping that the shed was not locked, the teen was relieved to find the door left ajar. Pushing it inwards she struggled inside, pressing her weight against the wood to support herself. Once she was inside she closed the door and realised she needed to barricade it.

A small desk sat to the right of the door; a slanted one with what looked like blueprints and measuring equipment attached, perhaps for architecture. The teenager placed both hands on either side of the desk, gripped it and twisted her shoulders in an attempt to get the desk to move.

The effort sent another spasm of pain down her side but she ignored it – this had to be done to ensure her safety.

Once she was satisfied with the makeshift barricade's position, she leaned against the back wall of the shed and slumped into a sitting position, her upper body tilting so that she rested in the corner of the wooden construct.

The shooting in the town had long since ended, and she had a hiding place from walkers and humans alike. She didn't want to fall asleep without someone watching her back but her injuries combined with the fatigue left her no choice. She shrugged off her backpack and allowed her head to sink as she drifted off into darkness.

* * *

><p><span><strong>Day 971<strong>

She awoke almost eighteen hours later. Her injuries had done considerable damage, but she had to push past it. Leaning forward she gripped her lower shins and titled her head back to alleviate the pain that was rushing down the back of her head, then pressed a hand to her rumbling stomach.

Tugging one of the shoulder straps of her yellowish-tan backpack, the teenager sighed with relief when she unzipped it and found a few measly scraps of food. Tearing a most-likely-out-of-date energy bar from its packaging she tucked in and felt lumps of the meal drop into her empty pit of a stomach. It wasn't much and by no means was it enough, but it would help.

Clutching her side she stood upright, slid her backpack over her shoulders, pressed a palm to the left side of her body – just below the ribcage – and reached for the door handle. As she staggered out she eyed her surroundings tentatively, ready to retreat back into the shed if she spotted any walkers or enemies.

Struggling to get to grips with walking, she hunched over and tried to stop thinking about it, hoping it would alleviate the pain. She had a long walk ahead of her, searching for a farmhouse where she would hopefully find some allies and not enemies. She prayed that they had not left her behind, and prayed that there would be someone who could help her.

Sully, Tessa and Emily were dead, that much was certain, and she hadn't heard from Hector since his disappearance, but that still left Vince, Annie, Wyatt, Tyler and Lowell unaccounted for. That said, plenty of Sanctum members could be alive and well which posed a definite threat. The last thing she wanted was to run into someone trigger-happy like the woman who had shot Sully in the leg.

Clutching her side tightly, the girl continued on her futile journey, praying that nothing would get in her way.

* * *

><p>She made it to the farmhouse without a hitch, besides the occasional walker growl or unbearable singe of back pain. She had lost herself once or twice but always managed to find a landmark to guide her – a forested hill in the distance, a notable office building on the horizon.<p>

Needless to say, she steered clear of the town. The herd that inhabited it could be heard from a good few hundred metres away and she didn't want to risk running into it.

As she reached the farmhouse her heart sank. While the door had been forcibly kicked open, it was evident that no one was around – she could just feel it in the air. Considering she had slept until the day after the fight, it was likely that whoever had come here had already been and gone. Chances were that it was a fleeing member of Sanctum, anyway.

Regardless, it was a place to rest, and the teenager desperately needed it. She pushed herself onto the porch, gripping hold of the banister tightly for support as she climbed through the doorway.

Everything was how they had left it the morning prior. They had all left with a plan – find Evansville and the Eastland Mall – and they had all agreed on it. Then everything went to shit and only a single, solitary teenager remained.

The fact that most of her friends were likely dead nearly brought a tear to her eye, but she resisted. That wasn't how she was – or at least not how she wanted to be. She held the torrent back and took in a deep breath through her nostrils.

Putting on a brave face, the teenager spotted a lonely tennis ball lying on the floor. She crouched and picked it up with her free hand – her other one still pinned to her ribs – and turned the ball so that she could see it clearly. Someone had left it behind when they left, just like she had been left behind by those who had survived the battle.

Becca put on a brave face as her lips thinned. She was alone.


	12. Chapter 12 - Covert

**Day 1071**

**Becca**

One hundred and one days had passed since the battle against Sanctum. Becca had camped at the farmhouse for a few days to tend to her wounds and clean herself up but eventually decided it was too dangerous to stick around lest a Sanctum survivor attempt to scour the area.

So she travelled. She left the farmhouse, looked what she assumed to be west and did not look back. Reaching the Eastland Mall would be her best chance of finding any survivors of her group.

Unfortunately, Becca possessed no sense of direction besides knowing what was left or right. Once she strayed too far from the house, that was it. She was lost and didn't know her way back to start again. It did not help that everything looked the same.

But Becca always knew she could survive on her own, even if people like Carver, Shel and Vince had doubted her abilities. She knew she had not just been ignorant – her faith was well placed, and it was hard not to let the smugness get to her head. She loved to be proved right, especially considering she was only fifteen and had survived for so long by herself.

She had made a habit of wandering all day and camping at night, scavenging all the while. Over the three or four months she had travelled alone she had passed through towns, forests, cities and much more, but had not run into trouble besides the occassional set of walkers. She had seen the odd shifty human in the distance but always elected to turn and avoid them before they spotted her, and as she lay on rooftops at night in the summer heat she could sometimes hear shootouts blasting through the air like fireworks minus the light show.

As the seasons passed and the temperature became warmer and much more bearable, Becca had traded in her red and white varsity jacket for a grey, short-sleeved, collared shirt that reminded her of one Shel used to own. She had never really envisioned herself wearing such a thing but it did its job.

Her jacket had not been needlessly thrown away, however. It lingered in the bottom of the backpack amongst too many other nicknacks she had picked up along the way, waiting for a rainy day. Literally, in the jacket's case.

Now that it had been months Becca was certain that she would make it to the mall at some point or another, but such an acknowledgement led her to think about the other members of the group. Annie would doubtfully make it on her own, but if she was with Wyatt, she might. If she was with Vince, she probably would and if all three of them were together she thought there was no way they _wouldn't _make it. Even though Silas had told her Vince was dead, Becca found it hard to believe. Silas would say anything to put her in a bad position and Vince was to resilient to have died in that fight. That said, Sully and Emily had perished in that town, killed by walkers, and Lowell and Tyler were not important.

And Bonnie... well, as far as Becca was concerned, Bonnie could go and fuck herself.

One hundred days into her stint of lone survival, Becca was camped in an abandoned trailer she had found. In her 'past life' before the apocalypse she had frowned upon 'trailer trash' but in this life she respected the compactness of a caravan. She could sit on the tiny sofa and was able to reach anything she needed – her backpack, her knife, the unfortunate contraption she had dubbed the 'shit bucket'... everything was in reach.

The only thing she wasn't proud of was her ammo consumption. She had stupidly used her bullets on walkers long ago and had none left. She kept the empty pistol around, though, just in case she came across anything she could use it for. While it didn't work as a gun, Becca found the weapon could fill the position of a hammer if she needed to smash a window or break into a building, which is what she intended to do today.

She had spotted a house the other day that seemed like it would be ripe with supplies. She didn't know why she got that feeling, it was just _felt _right. She left her trailer, made sure she had all the necessary gear in case she was unwillingly forced away from the caravan, and headed off.

The house was only a half mile from the caravan, and it was an easy trek. Making sure to keep the nearby forest to her left, Becca half walked, half jogged to her target.

After six to eight minutes the house appeared in the distance. Nothing about it had changed, just as she expected. It was tall, at least two storeys with beige, wooden stripes covering the entirety of its outward appearance.

Becca eyed a small window at the bottom of the house, level with the grassy ground. That would be her entry point; the front door was too obvious and this way she'd be able to get in and out without being seen just in case any other survivors were around. She doubted it, but didn't want to risk things. Besides, subtlety was her speciality, what with sneaking out of Roman's camp multiple times and managing to create a potential escape route back at Sanctum in case they needed it. Turns out they had.

Sprinting the last few metres, Becca fell into a crouch by the basement window and pushed it on the off chance that she wouldn't have to break it, but she had no such luck. Sighing, she retrieved her pistol and slammed it into the glass, shielding her face from the inevitable shower of glittery shards. It took several smacks but the window soon gave in and she ran the edge of the pistol around the inside of the frame to clear any pieces that were still sticking out; she had failed to do this last time she broke into a building and had almost ended up with a hefty slash down her arm which could have been infected.

When she was definitely certain that the window was clear she stuck her head through and eyed the basement below. Satisfied that no walkers were down there, waiting, she turned, lay flat on her stomach and fed her legs backwards through the point of entry, lowering herself into the subterranean room.

As she dropped into a crouch, the smell of must filled her nostrils and penetrated her throat. It was a horrifically invasive smell, one that reminded her of the attic back at her childhood home. She had to put that behind her now; surviving was more important.

The smashed window being her only source of light, Becca could just about make out a washing machine in the corner of one room. Perhaps she'd be able to use that to reach the window again, only just realising that her original entrance was too high up to reach even if she stretched and she didn't want to try upstairs in case walkers were in the building.

Becca looked around, spinning on the spot. The upper floors of the house had probably been cleared out by other scavengers but there always seemed to be a stigma against basements. No one ever seemed to check them, making them the most likely spot in a house to find any supplies.

The walls of the basement were racked with shelves, littered with useless power tools, pitchforks and shovels amongst other items the teenager was not interested in. There was a jerry can of what seemed to be fuel which might have come in handy if she had a car or knew how to drive one, but again she had no use for it.

It seemed like the venture had not been worthwhile until she spotted a series of drawstring backpacks concealed in the corner of the room. Surprised she had not seen them already Becca dashed over and fell into a crouch, reaching for the first one. She lifted it, noting that it wasn't very full, then put her index fingers into the hole and widened it so that she could reach inside. The fingers of her left hand grasped around and she felt a package slide between them.

"_Food."_

Slack-jawed, Becca's fingers flitted around the backpack and gripped at all the bags that fell into her grasp.

"_So much food."_

She eyed the other two backpacks. They were probably full of supplies too. If they were separated she may have found ammunition and water alongside the food.

How far was the trailer? Could she carry all these packs at once or would she have to make a return journey?

Not wanting to risk being out in the open for too long, she turned the backpack upside down and emptied it out, then retrieved her own pack and filled it with the supplies she had found, and to avoid wasting any more time she stuffed the remaining two backpacks into her own straight away. The rucksack wouldn't zip up all the way but that was a small concern – she'd be able to empty the supplies and sort through them back at the trailer.

Leaving her pack in the centre of the basement for a moment, Becca rushed over and gripped the washing machine, struggling to push it so that it was under the window. Once it was done protesting and she managed to get it under the window, she retrieved her backpack and climbed atop the large white cube.

She pushed her pack through the broken window first, then pressed her hands onto the ledge and struggled to push herself upwards. As her chest reached the hole she pushed her elbows out of the window so that she had more grip, pressed the soles of her feet to the concrete wall and scrabbled for the last few seconds until more of her body was outside than inside. The final push freed her legs and she thrust herself off of her stomach and into a crouched position so that she could don her backpack.

Pleased with her haul, Becca got to her feet and began the trek back to her trailer. There was a lot to sort through, and she was eager to see the rest of her new supplies.


	13. Chapter 13 - Rest

**Day 1071**

**Becca**

Back at the trailer, Becca upturned her backpack and allowed all the supplies to spill out. All the food packages she had already seen fell onto the trailer floor, along with the familiar sights of her useless pistol and her knife, but she was shocked when a bottle of water and what appeared to be medicine fell out too.

She had seriously hit the jackpot. It would be more than enough to get her some of the way to the Eastland Mall if that was what she wanted to do.

There was doubt in her mind. She wanted to find whoever had survived the battle but also didn't think that anyone had. She was doing fine here, did she really need to go somewhere that may not be a sure deal?

Becca's curiosity overrode her skepticism. Of course she wanted to go. What was the other option, live alone for another three months or for the rest of eternity? Though she was confident in her abilities she knew there would be at least one situation where she'd fare better if someone was with her, so she had to make a go of it and try to reach the mall. That had been the agreed goal, and Vince had been planning to set up a community there, so it wouldn't be like everyone had left, they would still be there, waiting. It was the end of the journey – the destination.

It was too late to set off that day, though. She'd get some sleep and set off the next morning, find a new place to camp that was slightly closer and repeat that cycle until she reached the mall. It would be a slow process, but she would rather be patient and careful than speedy and careless.

Deciding she was hungry, Becca grabbed an item of food from the pile and crammed it into her mouth, cupping her hands to her face so nothing felt out while she chewed like a beast.

She scanned the pile once more – no ammo. While the food, water and medicine were a welcome sight, she would have loved to find some bullets as well. Even one would've been nice as she would have posed a threat if a bandit held her up or something. But no, she'd have to rely on her knife and staying covert.

With nothing else to do, Becca leaned back on the trailer's tiny couch and decided to take a nap. The adrenaline of the break in had faded and now she was left with fatigue.

She allowed her head to slip back as she turned onto her side, and her eyelids slid down as she succumbed to the weariness.

_Knock, knock._

Becca shot up in her seat, rubbing her eyes. Had she just imagined that or..?

_Knock, knock._

Her mind must be playing tricks on her. She was tired, that was all. No one was knocking on the door.

_KNOCK. KNOCK._

Dropping her feet to the ground, she stood up. It was too loud for her to just be imagining it now. She stared at the door, uncertain, but felt drawn to it nonetheless. Hand outstretched, she took a few tentative steps forward and touched the door handle, feeling nothing as her fingers wrapped around it.

_Knock._

It had quietened now, presumably because she had gotten closer and given the knocker what they wanted. She could tell that whoever was on the other side was impatient, and she was oddly drawn to open it even though it made no sense to do so. She had no idea who it was, it was probably better to gather her things, escape through a window on the other side of the trailer and make a run for it.

Instead, her body acted of its own accord and opened the door. Outside stood a dark figure whose every detail was obscured by shadow. They held – what seemed to be – eye contact for a moment and Becca stepped aside to allow the stranger in.

The figure walked inside, drawing themselves to their full height – which almost reached the ceiling of the trailer. Becca crossed back over to the sofa and sat on one side of the table which it curved around. The figure hesitated for a moment and sat down across from her.

"Who are you?" Becca asked.

"This question does not matter." the figure replied, its voice neither masculine nor feminine. "You already know." every time it spoke, its identity became clearer.

"What do you want?" the teenager questioned. "I have supplies, more than enough for just me."

"You know what I want."

Becca felt an itch in the back of her mind as if to confirm the stranger's words. She did know, but she couldn't remember. She paused for thought, then said "Why have you come here?"

"To finish."

"Finish?" Becca raised an eyebrow.

"You know. It is not finished. I am here to finish." The figure shuffled in its seat, its arms moving uncomfortably beneath the table. She could just about make out the whites of its eyes now, and its voice was clearer – deeper, more masculine. "When would you like me to finish?"

"What the hell are you talking about?" Becca was concerned now. She had no idea what was going on.

"I have followed you. Now I have caught up." The figure pulled itself to its feet. "We must finish."

"Finish what? What did we start?"

The tall figure leaned forward so that its breaths fell on her face. "You know."

Becca pushed herself out of the chair and past the figure. Backing away, she looked over her shoulder and towards the door behind her. Maybe she could escape out of the bathroom window or something. She'd lose all of her supplies, but knew exactly what this person intended to do.

Noticing her plotting to escape, the figure withdrew a long, sharp blade and gripped it in his fist. He took one heavy swing, succeeding in catching Becca's shoulder and creating a centimetre deep gash that sprayed a fine mist of blood up the teenager's face.

Seething in pain, Becca growled and kept backing away as the figure performed a blackslash, creating a lighter but more painful trench across her breast. Stumbling backwards, Becca choked a sob as the figure kicked her feet out from under her and she collapsed onto her back in the carpeted hallway. The figure pressed a foot on her stomach, relieving her of all the air in her body.

As her grey shirt was flooded with her own blood, the figure kneeled over her, one knee on either side of her chest, and lifted the blade above his head in both fists so that it was pointing down. Becca winced and gritted her teeth as the figure took a deep breath, as if to will away her life force, and then plunged the blade downwards.

The weapon penetrated the area where the bottom of her throat met the top of her chest, and Becca spluttered, coughing up blood. The figure leaned forward so that she could see his beady eyes, and smiled. Just as soon as she could identify him, her head fell to one side and her eyes rolled back in her head, her body too damaged to cope any more.

As she coughed her last few laboured psuedo-breaths, the figure stood up, turned and walked away, leaving her skewered between the sword and the floor. Blinded, Becca could not watch him leave, and soon enough she fell limp, dead.

Becca shot up in her seat, rubbing her eyes. Had she just imagined that or..?

She was sweaty, her hands were clammy and her hair was glued to her face. Wiping it out of her eyes she stared at her hands, then glanced over to the door. It was shut. She then looked at the hallway and sighed when she didn't catch sight of her own corpse which had been pinned to the floor like a piece of paper on a pinboard.

Regaining her composure, she finally put the pieces together as she donned her backpack, not prepared to stay in that trailer for another moment.

"_That nightmare again."_


	14. Chapter 14 - Stealth

**Day 1072**

**Becca**

Becca left the trailer that morning, quickly forgetting about the terrible dream she had while she was resting. All she could recall was that she had spoken so someone she didn't recognise - but also _did_ at the same time.

Once she had left the caravan she decided to cut through the forest directly west so that she could avoid being out in the open and therefore an easy target. She'd be much harder to spot amid the foliage and walkers were slow enough to outrun even if she had been injured. A bum leg would have caused her to worry but all she had was a few nicks due to the smashed glass from the day before.

Her goal was to reach the Eastland Mall. She had put it off for so long now, it was about time that she actually made it there and – hopefully – reunited with her friends. If not, she'd have to just live there and perhaps start a new group.

The issue at hand was that she could not work out where she was. A few telltale signs told her that she was still in Ohio, but she had no idea which side. She had generally been heading west as Sanctum was towards the Ohio-Pennsylvania border, so she must have been close to Indiana. However, she had never been too good at Geography, always opting more for sports or anything that involved any semblance of not-sitting-at-a-desk. At least the experience in sports had built up her stamina so that she could walk for quite a long time without getting short of breath. She recalled how she had always wanted to be part of the baseball team but the school would never let her because they only had a boy's team, and they couldn't form a girl's team with just one girl who was willing to play it. So instead they offered her the position of a cheerleader, which she took offense to.

Not that she'd be playing baseball ever again thanks to the fact that her dominant hand only had two fingers and a thumb thanks to a bite-and-amputation.

Putting the memories to the back of her head, Becca looked over her shoulder and checked her surroundings. She needed to be more aware of what was going on around her – there was no use in letting her mind wander when it could mean life or death.

Deciding she was thirsty, she stopped for a break and sat down on a collapsed tree. She was not sure how it had fallen over; perhaps it had just snapped due to its own weight or something alone those lines. She paused in thought for a moment and then shrugged it off. She removed her backpack, opened it and withdrew one of the water bottles she had recovered the previous day. Once the lid was unscrewed she took a small sip – hoping to conserve the water – and tightened the cap once more and stood up to continue.

She broke out of some trees and into a small clearing, twisting her waist in an attempt to loosen up her muscles. She hadn't been walking for long, and planned to make some serious headway that day. If she was lucky she'd reach the border in a day or two, but she wasn't sure where she was exactly-

"SHE'S MINE!" someone yelled. "I'M GONNA FUCKING GET HER!"

Becca's eyes widened. She backed out of the clearing fearfully, and hid behind a tree. Her knife was wrapped in a makeshift cloth pouch which was strapped to her leg with a belt she had found the day before. She withdrew the weapon and held it tightly in her left hand, fearing that the non-dominant appendage would cause her grief and get her hurt. She didn't have much of an option.

Praying that she hadn't been seen but knowing it was too late for that, she asked herself one question; who was coming after her, and why?

"_He was shouting." _she thought. _"He was telling someone else. There's more than one."_

As she cowered, she caught sight of the backpack she had dropped in an effort to make herself lighter in case she had to fight.

Of course.

The supplies she'd recovered the day before – how could she be so stupid? It was so obvious! It was too simple for them to have been organised like that and left during the time before the walkers. They had just been 'left' out for her because they belonged to a group! They found out they'd been robbed and now they had come for her!

"Oh god." she whispered, her voice shaking. "Oh god, ohgodohgodohgodohgod."

She turned her head, leaning past the tree trunk she had her back pressed to and looked into the clearing, gulping as she did so, thinking that it may well be the end for her.

Immediately she spotted the backs of three men cornering something. Maybe they had not located her yet, but she wasn't sure. They could be toying with her and pretending they didn't know were she was.

One of the bandits was boney and dark-skinned. His leather jacket hung from his body like he was made of wire, his muscle mass incredibly low. The second man was a lot broader and had a bandana tied around what appeared to be a bald head, and the third man had bright red hair and wore a beanie.

As Becca leaned further past the tree, she found herself asking whether or not she _was _the target. As she looked past the three men she saw a fourth figure – a girl, around her age, with a sheathed sword attached to her waist. Becca wondered where she had found it – perhaps in a museum or something.

"Please!" the girl cried. "Leave me alone!"

Her hand found its way to the grip of her weapon, threatening to withdraw it and skewer one of the men. Before she managed to free the blade from its socket the ginger man darted forward and gripped her shoulders, holding her arms to her sides. The first man looked unsure, rubbing the back of his head slighting and backing off while the bandana-wearing one took a step forward.

Becca still didn't do anything. She assumed the men wanted to rob the girl, fleece her of all she was worth and then leave her to rot, by which point her group would find her or Becca would reluctantly step in and share a few supplies before being on her way.

But no. As the bandana-clad bandit glanced at his leather-coated ally, she caught sight of the wide-eyed, piercing, hungry smirk on his face and instantly recognised it. Not because she recognised the man himself, but because she had seen the smirk before, on someone else.

As her stomach sank, the stranger who had been grappling the girl knocked her flat onto her back and his bulky friend climbed atop her in an instant. The ginger man backed off, looking unsure as his friend forced eye contact with his prey.

Becca winced. They didn't want food or water or medicine, they wanted something no one else could give them.

As she closed her eyes in fear, she saw the face of the man who had tried to do it to her but had failed. She couldn't stand by and watch it happen.

"_What would Vince do?" _she asked herself.

No answer.

She asked herself the same question, but regarding Annie. The girl would, no doubt, protest loudly and demand they save the stranger, but with no tact. She needed another approach.

"_What would Shel do?"_

Shel would dive in and save the stranger no matter the cost. She had been a good person, and Becca knew what she would do in this exact situation because she'd been in the position of the prey. Shel had saved Becca at the cost of her own life.

Becca grimaced. She'd have to follow in her sibling's footsteps.

She gripped the knife in her left hand tightly, all too aware of the sweat building between her palm and the weapon. She slowly stood up, leaving her backpack by the tree, and made her presence known.

The three men didn't see her immediately, two of them still attempting to stop their captive from struggling, but the third was taking so many steps back from the events that were transpiring that he eventually caught Becca in his peripheral vision. "Fellas!" he called, his voice weak as if he didn't want his friends to be trying what they were doing either.

The ginger man looked up from the centre of the clearing immediately but the bandana bandit ignored her presence. "Git the fuck outta here, bitch!" he growled. "You din't see nuthin!"

"Leave her alone." Becca ordered, her voice steely. Man, could she act.

"Or what?" the ginger man chuckled. "You can git in line, girl."

Becca took a step forward, keeping her knife concealed. The bandana bandit and his prey were between the two of them.

"Or," she replied, "I'll kill you."


	15. Chapter 15 - Knives

**Day 1072**

**Becca**

"Should've kept walking, slut." The ginger bandit snarled, leaning forward. He was a good seven metres or so away from Becca, and didn't seem to have a gun on him, so she was safe for now. She glanced over at the other man, who had disregarded her and was watching the spectacle in the centre of the clearing, then looked at the final enemy, who was also ignorant to Becca's existence.

Things were somewhat balanced in her favour. One-on-one at worst.

She took a step forward, humouring the ginger man. He chuckled. "What, you comin' to me? You want it as much as I do, huh?"

Becca smiled, taunting the man, as she moved alongside his friend who was still struggling as the girl she was trying to save attempted to wrestle him off of her chest.

She glanced over at the other man who was still cowering, then relaxed, drawing herself back up to her full height so that she wasn't hunched over. Redirecting her glance at the man who had been taunting her, she held eye contact and allowed her face to sink into an emotionless stare.

She waited for a second, then let her left arm go wild, thrusting her knife into the soft tissue of the neck of the man who was grappling the girl.

The stab victim attempted to take a deep breath as Becca withdrew her blade and kicked him off of the teenager she had rescued. Eyeing the ginger bandit again, she narrowed her eyes and held up her bloody knife and stained hand.

The bandit returned the scowl, then bared his teeth, revealing a blade of his own. Becca took a step back and glanced at the dying form of her first kill of the day, then showed the other men her blade, allowing them to see the sunlight dancing off of her victim's blood.

"You got lucky," the ginger man snarled. "He din't even know you were there."

Becca smirked. "Should've paid attention."

The ginger man raised his own dagger high above his head and ran to attack her, yelling. She dodged out of the way, keeping her blade in her fist and punched him in his back as he passed over. She didn't exactly hit hard and only really succeeded in giving herself aching knuckles.

The man turned around and slashed at her with his serrated knife and snarled, air shooting out of his nostrils. He brought his arm down again but she darted out of the way once more, then sliced at him as he turned around to attack again. Her blade lightly sliced his shirt but did not do much damage to the bandit himself.

Chuckling under his breath, her assailant sliced at her as she reeled back, realising her strike had done no damage, but he caught her right arm as she instinctively brought it up to shield her face. A shallow but stinging trench was carved from the middle of her lower arm to her elbow as she breathed through her teeth in pain. Clutching her arm she backed off slightly and kept her pained arm pinned to her side to stem the blood flow.

Only able to fight with one arm she dodged the man's next attack at her neck by ducking, then gripped hold of her blade and thrust it upwards into his stomach. The man took a deep breath, then flailed slightly, trying to stab her back in revenge. Becca pulled away, taking her knife with her and the man staggered backwards as he gurgled and choked on his own blood, just as his friend had less than two minutes prior. Soon enough he could no longer think straight and collapsed onto his knees in pain, a dark patch filling his already dark shirt.

Becca watched him fall onto his side, then kneeled by his head, raising her knife and shaking her head. She could have thought of a 'badass one-liner' to end it on, but decided that murdering someone wasn't the right time to do that. Instead she just looked away and thrust her knife into his temple, hearing the audibly painful crunch of metal on bone, then the agitated scrape as she withdrew it.

She did the same with the man who had been wrestling the other girl and then looked over her shoulder at the remaining, skinny bandit. She drew herself to her feet, glared at him, then watched him back away and run off, his clothes still handing from him like he was a skeleton.

Finally certain that she was safe, the adrenaline wore off. Becca pinned her arm to the slit on her arm and groaned in pain, crushing her eyelids together. Luckily the final bandit had not taken advantage of the cut and had instead run off after seeing what had happened to the last guy who tried.

"Are you all right?" someone asked.

Becca had almost forgot the reason she'd fought the bandits in the first place. Looking over her shoulder she saw the girl she had rescued from the three men readjusting her jacket and zipping it up. She was just taller than Becca, the tip of her nose just about level with her saviour's eyes.

"Are _you _okay?" Becca asked, more concerned for the stranger's wellbeing after what had nearly happened.

The teenager shook her head. "I'm still a bit shaken up. He didn't do anything, though. Thank you."

Becca eyed the girl cautiously. What must it be like to be some '_pristine' _girl like her, getting saved by a scarred, bleeding mess with two missing fingers? Her mind scowled at the thought.

"Why were they following you, anyway?" Becca asked, her voice emotionless as she focused on the slit on her arm.

"I got separated from my family." the girl replied. "I think those three were watching us for a while. I have a big family, lots of brothers, so I think they waited until I was alone." she shuddered at the thought.

"Well, good." Becca sighed, walking back towards the tree where she had left her backpack. "You've got a group to go back to, then. I don't have to worry about you." She slid the backpack onto her shoulders and began walking away. "Well, bye. Nice meeting you."

"W-wait, don't go!" the girl said, running and catching up to her. "I don't think I know where they are. The dead attacked us. I had to run away and I don't know if they made it or not."

Becca shrugged. "So? They can't be too far. If you run fast enough you'll probably catch up. I've got other stuff to deal with. I already saved you from those bandits."

The girl eyed her arm. "Well, what are you going to do about that cut? I can help you bandage it properly – it looks like your hand isn't very well done either."

"I can take care of myself." Becca snapped, grimacing and speeding up to lose the stranger. "I bet you can't even use that sword properly!"

"I actually can." The teenager shrugged, struggling to free it from the scabbard. "It just gets stuck sometimes. One of the people from my group taught me. He studied weapons anyway. I think he was a civil war re-enactor or something." She paused as she saw Becca leaving her behind. "Where are you going?"

"Away," Becca grunted, "From you. I have _things... to... do. _You're not my problem."

"But you just helped me out!" the girl replied.

"I didn't do that for you," Becca admitted, "I did it for myself. So I wouldn't feel bad."

"And now you're just going to walk away because you feel better?" the stranger questioned. "You're going to just leave me here in the woods to die or get attacked again with no one to save me this time?"

"Sometimes there isn't someone there to save you." Becca retorted. "Sometimes you have to do things on your own. Like me."

"Surely it's better to have someone watching your back, though, even if it _is _me - or you, in my case?"

"Maybe." Becca grunted. "I don't care."

"Please, just let me stay with you until I find my family. You're going the way I came from anyway – it could only be half an hour and then we'll find someone and you'll never see me again. And I can help bandage your arm on the way."

Becca shrugged. She wasn't going to get rid of her – and if she did, she'd probably find herself wondering what happened to the teenager she left in the woods to die – so she decided to humour her new 'friend'.

"Fine." she mumbled. "You can follow me. But only until we find someone you know."

"We should probably tend to that arm," the girl replied, reaching for Becca's arm and stretching it out. "Do you have any bandages?"

"In my backpack." Becca grunted, jerking her head back slightly. Her new ally quickly found some near the top of the pile of belongings and began wrapping it around Becca's arm tightly – not so much that it restricted movement, but so much that it held the injury better. Becca found herself appreciative of the help. "Thanks," she said, "You got a name? I'm Becca."

Her new friend brushed her light brown hair out of her face then sighed. "Natalia."

Becca smirked as she climbed back to her feet. "Stupid name. Too long, like my... _actual _name. Anyone got a nickname for you or anything?"

Natalia shrugged. "Not that I know of."

Becca and her friend began walking, the former loosening up a bit and losing some of her scorn for her new follower. "I'll think of one. Nat-... no. Is 'Talia' any good?"


	16. Chapter 16 - Clearing

**Day 1072**

**Becca**

Over the past hour or so, Becca humoured the new 'friend. She wasn't exactly comfortable around the teenager and felt like she was being held back from reaching the mall, but decided to hold it in until she could force the girl on her group, whenever she found them.

As it turned out, Natalia was a few months younger than Becca, but neither of them knew the exact date. As far as Becca could tell it was getting close to mid summer, so she was either towards the end of being fifteen or she was already sixteen.

She kept finding herself studying her new ally – the girl carried herself nervously, ever so slightly hunched over as her eyes darted around every few seconds. Becca had seen the look before, but on someone much younger. It seemed as if Natalia was either paranoid or she wasn't used to being out on her own. No doubt the latter was true – as far as she could tell the teenager was from a large group and the adults were the ones who did supply runs, unlike Becca who had to do everything herself. That said, Natalia was a dab hand with medical supplies. The knife wound that ran down Becca's arm had stained the bandage but had ceased stinging since the girl she had rescued had tended to it. A dull ache still lingered and bothered her permanently, but it felt a lot better than if she had just left it. At least the cut was not deep enough to warrant stitches.

"Hey," Natalia called. "I think I recognise where we are."

"Good." Becca grunted, glad she was close to getting the burden off of her back. Soon she'd be on the road once more with no one slowing her down. She'd only saved the girl because she wouldn't be able to live with herself otherwise; she hadn't been expecting to drag the kid along with her.

The two of them took a few steps forwards before Natalia broke into a run. Becca followed along in an attempt to catch up to her yellow-jacketed ally, but remained disinterested.

Soon enough they reached a clearing in the forest. Becca's eyebrows raised slightly as she saw empty tents, torn material, supplies knocked over and dead walkers strewn across the floor. "Huh." she exclaimed.

"Hello?" Natalia called. "Is anybody there?"

No response.

"Where are they?"

Becca shrugged. "Must've ran away - in a hurry, looks like."

"I have to catch up." Her ally announced, her voice panicked. "They've got to be out there, right? At least _someone _has to have made it."

Becca shook her head and raised her hand. "Not worth the risk, you'll only get lost and attacked again. You don't even know where you're going – _they _don't even know where they're going."

"In that case, what do I do?"

Becca took a deep, begrudging breath. "Give them a destination. They might come back here to check if anyone lived, but it's too dangerous for you to stick around if more bandits are in the area. Look, I've got some paper and a pen, you can leave a note." She unzipped her pack and dug through it until she found the items she had listed, passing them to Natalia.

Natalia eyed her cautiously. "What if bandits find it instead of the others?"

"It's a risk you'll have to take. The destination I have in mind is far enough away that bandits would give up on following you but your family would keep on coming."

Natalia shrugged again. "What destination would that be?"

"Eastland Mall, Indiana. That's where _I'm _headed." Becca took a deep, aggravated breath. "_So, _I guess you'll have to come with me."

"But that's a state over!" Natalia complained, shrugging. "How do you know they'd come that far to find me?"

Becca's eyes fell to the ground. "Trust me," she said, "it might take a while, but I know."

Sighing, Natalia filled out her message and folded the paper up, placing it on top of a foldaway chair in the centre of the clearing. To make sure the paper wasn't blown away by wind she put a rock on top of it and turned to Becca, shoulders slumping in sadness.

"So," she mumbled solemnly, "What now?"

Becca said nothing, instead eyeing her peer cautiously as she donned her backpack, then turned and began walking away from the clearing and into the tall pine trees that surrounded it. It was up to Natalia whether or not she wanted to follow; Becca wasn't going to instruct - no, _babysit - _the teenager. She had things to do. She could tell that Natalia wanted to stay and she wasn't going to force her to come with her if she didn't want to.

Becca felt an odd mixture of scorn and relief as she heard footsteps on the forest trail behind her. She glanced over her shoulder briefly and acknowledged that Natalia had made what Becca thought was the right choice, even if neither of them was happy with it. Becca didn't want to have someone relying on her all the time, and Natalia wanted a better chance of seeing her family again. Sure, staying at their camp would have potentially been a much quicker way of finding them, but giving them the destination and a meeting point was a much _safer _plan.

Honestly, Becca doubted that any of Natalia's family had made it, judging by the pools of blood she had seen just outside of her ally's field of view. Chances were that at least one of them was dead already.

It was better to keep hoping, though, just as Becca hoped that Annie, Wyatt and Vince were still alive, and how she hoped that they thought the same of her.

Looking over her shoulder again she made sure that Natalia was only a few steps behind, then decided to speak. "I think there's gonna be a lot of walking ahead," she muttered, "and I'm not gonna slow down because I've got stuff to do. So if you wanna get there, you'll have to keep up."

"I don't know if I can." Natalia admitted, her voice weary. "They could be back in ten minutes and I might never see them again."

"Suck it up." Becca grunted, her forehead creasing, "This is your best shot. _Bandits _could be back in ten minutes. What about that guy who ran away? Probably getting his other friends, isn't he?"

Natalia avoided Becca's glare. "There's no reason to be so cruel."

Becca groaned and looked to the forest trail ahead. She wasn't going to get into an argument; it'd only end with Natalia running off and getting lost again – or worse, killed - and Becca didn't exactly want that on her conscience. So she allowed the teenager to continue along behind her as she kept her good arm pressed against her bandaged one and imagined what it'd be like to see everyone again. Vince... Annie... Wyatt.

A smile crept onto her lips as their faces popped into her mind. Though it had been three months she'd never forget what they looked like. Last time she had seen Vince an ugly black eye had been hosted on his face – no doubt it had cleared up by now. Annie would probably be wearing her familiar blue-green hat, and Wyatt's mass of hair would be as yellow and straw-like as always.

Her memory of her biological family was fuzzy, considering it had been at least six months since Shel had been killed, but she had a photograph for that. It wasn't comforting knowing how easy it would be to lose if she was attacked or had to leave her backpack behind, but such uncertainty made it all the more precious and made _her _all the more determined to defend it.

Looking up at the sky she stared through the canopy and saw that which had once been blue was slowly drifting into a purplish-pink hue.

"It's getting late." She observed. "We've got about three or four hours of daylight left – better to find a place to stay overnight. It's never good to be out after dark."

"It looks like it may be clouding over, too." Natalia suggested. "It might rain..."

Becca paused. "And that would be..."

"Irritating." Natalia interjected.

"Useful." Becca finished. "Because we'd be able to fill up some bottles with the water or something. You got anything like that?"

"No."

"Well, you're lucky I do, then." Becca smirked. "Found a lot of supplies yesterday, so at least we won't go hungry." Looking over her shoulder, Becca prepared to break into a jog. "Come on, we need to find somewhere to stay before we get soaked."


	17. Chapter 17 - Lakeside

**Day 1072**

**Becca**

The trees thinned out as Becca and Natalia reached a lakeside resort, but the weather did not remain as mild as it had been earlier. The two teenagers were pounded with rain, their clothes soaked through as they spied the resort from the trees. While NaNatalia had a hooded jacket, Becca was not so lucky and instead had to hold her backpack over her head as a makeshift umbrella.

The stumbled through the downpour, so intent on staying dry that they did not notice anything out of the ordinary for a good while. It was only when Natalia, arms crossed tightly and fringe matted down on her face, pointed out a window with light in it that Becca realised they might not be alone. Instantly she leapt into action, ignoring the rain and tugging her ally down behind a bush at the side of the road.

"What?" Natalia asked, confused.

Becca peered out from behind the bush, studying the house at the end of the road cautiously. It looked a lot like a holiday lodge of sorts, made of wood and stone bricks, giving it quite a rustic look. There seemed to be a boardwalk or bridge that led out onto a lake backing onto the house.

"Could be dangerous." Becca sighed, lips thinning in exasperation. "We can't exactly go into any of these houses with whoever's in _there _so close to us." she paused. "But I don't want to walk in this rain for another two hours to find somewhere."

"So, what do we do?" Natalia asked, her hands moving to pull her hood back up after the wind blew it off of her scalp.

"I don't know the answer to _everything... _Jesus." Becca sighed. "Give me a second."

She stopped to think as the particles of rain slammed into her face, causing her to wince. She was soaked through and freezing, only wearing a short-sleeved shirt, so she wasn't sure how long she could go without catching a cold.

"Wait," Natalia blurted. "There's someone in the window – look!"

Becca leaned out from their cover again and stared at the glassy screen down the street. Sure enough, there was a person standing in front of it. Squinting for a better view, Becca realised that whoever it was had small stature and couldn't be much older than ten.

"It's a kid in there." she mumbled, raising her eyebrows.

"Oh, my god." Natalia, gushed, pushing herself to her feet and breaking into a sprint to reach the house.

Becca growled, running after her 'friend' as she yelled "What are you doing?!"

Natalia reached the doorstep and knocked on the door repeatedly until Becca caught up. "Natalia!" the older teenager repeated, "What are you doing?"

"It might be my brother!" Natalia announced, holding her hands out as if it was the most obvious conclusion in the world.

Becca crossed her arms and turned away, resigning herself to whatever fate she'd meet when whoever was on the other side of the door opened it. "Might also be my sister." she grumbled.

"I didn't even know you had a sister." Natalia remarked as she looked back at the door, eager to reunite with at least one member of her family.

"Adopted." Becca grunted. "Sort of-"

Her words were cut off as someone taller than the child she had seen earlier opened the door. Natalia stepped away from the door as a woman in her mid forties eyed them, concerned.

"Who are you?"

The woman's voice was drenched with skepticism, but she was unarmed. Becca stared at the woman's creased face and raised her own eyebrows as Natalia stuttered a reply. "I'm... um... we're-" she pointed to herself, then Becca, then back to the window. "We saw... uh..."

"Look." Becca stated. "It's raining out here and we just need somewhere to stay the night. We're not gonna kill you or anything."

The woman's eyes darted from Becca to Natalia, then back again. "...What?"

Becca frowned. "We just need somewhere to stay, okay? We're not bandits or anything, we're just two kids."

"How do I know there aren't any bandits waiting to come and attack me?" the woman asked, preparing to close the door on them.

"Because," Becca began, "There's, like, two people in there including you, so they would've just outright attacked you anyway, and bandits wouldn't let me carry all the supplies I had into something that could get nasty."

"If I let you in," the woman began, "You stay where I can see you. We've got a spare room but I'm going to lock it as soon as you go to sleep in there so you can't get up to any trouble."

Becca shrugged. "Fair enough."

The woman opened the door and allowed the two teenagers in. As they walked over the threshold and embraced the warmth inside, Natalia asked "Is my brother here? He's little, only seven. We got split up."

The woman shook his head. "I don't know how you managed to see him but the only child here is my son, and nobody else."

"Oh."

Becca made eye contact with the woman. "We saw your kid through the window – I think he was standing in front of a candle or something so he was pretty clear to see."

The woman waved them into a living room. "Sit down, and please don't try anything."

Becca nodded as she took a seat on a spongey, bluish couch. Natalia took a second to remove her jacket before she sat down beside her new friend and the woman sat across from them. Becca withdrew her knife from its makeshift sheath and placed it on the table in front of her, then did the same with her pistol. "Pistol isn't loaded." she admitted. "Just so there's no confusion here."

Natalia glanced at Becca for a moment then did the same with her sword.

"Where does a girl like you get a weapon like that?" the woman asked, raising her eyebrows.

Natalia stuttered. "My family was camped in a museum a few months ago and I picked it up there."

"Hmph, that makes sense." The woman huffed. "I wouldn't normally let anyone in, but considering you're kids, I couldn't leave you out in the rain. I think it comes with being a parent."

"Or just with being _human_." Becca mumbled under her breath.

The woman scratched her head and looked at them both. "Anyway, I think we should get the formalities out of the way. My name is Deborah and my son is Max, but I'd appreciate if you kept away from him. I still don't trust either of you as far as I can throw you, regardless of whether or not I know where all your weapons are."

"Becca," Becca announced, placing a hand on her chest. "and this is Talia."

"Natalia." Natalia corrected.

"Talia sounds better."

"It doesn't. Stop calling me that."

Deborah watched them and locked her fingers together. "I guess you two haven't known each other long if you're still arguing about what to call each other."

"We only met today actually." Natalia informed the woman. "Becca saved me from some bandits and we've been trying to find my family since."

"Why do I find the idea that a teenage girl probably _killed _bandits... hard to believe?" Deborah asked. In response Becca raised her right arm and gestured to the bandage just beneath her elbow. "I didn't exactly come out unhurt – this stings like fuck."

"I'd appreciate if you watched your language, considering my son can probably hear you. Now look, if you want some sleep you can go upstairs and use the first door on the left. I'll keep hold of your weapons until morning so we don't run into any trouble and I'll lock you into the room so you can't snoop around and steal from us. Then in the morning we can discuss more about where you're headed."

Becca nodded and got to her feet. Grasping Natalia's shoulder she pulled her companion up too and Deborah showed them upstairs. The two teenagers found the first room on the left and made their way inside, hearing the door click as the woman locked it behind them.


	18. Chapter 18 - Locks

**Day 1072**

**Becca**

Becca sat on the wooden bedroom floor with her back to the wall. While Deborah had offered them a place to sleep for the night Becca trusted the woman as much as the woman trusted her. She was skeptical considering good people turned out to be bad a lot of the time. Why she kept letting herself get involved with such people was beyond her. She guessed she was just a stupid kid.

A lot had happened that day, and Becca felt exhausted. It wasn't that she felt sleepy, just that her muscles had only started aching once she stopped exercising them. She tilted her head back and rubbed her irreparable right hand – a sort of comfort mechanism she had developed a while back – and watched Natalia sit down in a wicker chair on the other side of the room, letting her cheek fall into one palm in boredom.

"I don't know how I'm going to sleep if I'm soaked through." Natalia mumbled.

Becca scoffed. "I don't know about you but I'd rather sleep in drenched clothes than without anything on at all."

Natalia blew air through her closed lips. "Do you think there's actually anything at that mall you're going to?"

Pausing for thought, Becca took a second and then replied "Something. I dunno what, but there'll be something."

"Do you think my family are alive?"

Becca didn't answer that question, instead digging into her backpack to retrieve a photograph that lay at the bottom of it. Luckily she'd had the sense to wrap it up in her old jacket so the rain had not been able to damage it. Regardless of water damage, it was still creased and faded, but she could still clearly make out the faces of her father and Shel, as well as her younger self.

"What's that?"

Becca looked up. Natalia was curious, but Becca didn't think it was right to show her. Her family was missing after all, and this would feel like she was rubbing it in.

"Just an old photo." Becca huffed, chucking it back in her bag. "Nothing important."

"I wish I had some photos... of _before. _I could go and find my home right now and take a photo of it, but it wouldn't be the same."

Becca allowed her head to droop. "I don't know where 'home' is any more. It's too far away."

"Where did you live?"

"Georgia."

"You don't have the accent."

Becca took a deep breath. "I can do it if you want. Spend enough time around people with a certain accent and you'll be able to do it _pret-ty _well."

The two of them paused as the door to the room rattled – as if someone was fiddling with a key.

"Didn't Deborah say that she wouldn't let us out until morning?" Natalia asked.

"Fuck." Becca growled. "I knew this was a trap. Stay behind the door and get my back if something happens."

Natalia nodded. "All right, I can do this."

The doorknob slowly twisted and the wooden entryway was opened. Becca reached for her bag, hoping its weight would be able to bludgeon someone to death but her fears were nullified when she caught sight of the figure on the other side of the door.

"New people." whispered a boy, no older than ten.

Becca's brow furrowed. "Are you supposed to be here?"

The boy held a finger to his lips and shushed her. "My mom's asleep." he whispered. "I got the key off of her – I heard people talking earlier and she wouldn't let me meet you."

Natalia moved out from behind the door, causing the boy to scare slightly. "Sorry," the teenager said, crouching down in front of the child and offering him her hand to shake. "Didn't mean to frighten you. I'm Natalia. This is Becca."

The boy shook her hand and then retracted it nervously. "I'm Max. Why are you here?"

"We're just going somewhere." Becca grunted. "We'll be gone before you know it."

"That blows." Max sighed. "I thought I was gonna have more friends than just _mom._"

"Sorry," Becca mumbled, "Can't do anything about it. We're leaving tomorrow."

"Don't be _rude,_" Natalia scolded, frowning as she looked at Becca over her shoulder. "We do have to go because I have to find my family but I'm sure you'll make some friends at some point."

"Can't you just stay for a little while longer?" Max begged. "I _need _someone to play with."

Natalia smiled. "Maybe if I find my little brother we can come back and he can meet you. I think you'd be friends." she looked over her shoulder. "Maybe Becca's sister, too? _Adopted_ sister."

Becca shrugged and kept her eyes on the floor, still sitting against the wall. "I don't know." She admitted. "I'm not sure Annie's really into playing with boys. She's too... nice."

Max scoffed. "Pff... your sister sounds like a huge baby."

Becca's head shot up as she glared at the boy. "Don't you _dare _say _shit _about her." Her tone was enough to strike fear into the child's heart as he glanced to Natalia for support.

"Becca's had a rough day, I think." she mumbled. "Maybe you should go. And don't forget to put the key back where you found it so your mom doesn't find out."

Max nodded and backed away, closing the door behind him. Natalia waited for the click as the boy locked the door behind him, then turned to Becca. "You can't say that sort of thing to a kid, you know." She scolded.

"I'm sure he's heard worse."

"You don't have to drill it into him any more than necessary, though. He's just teasing, that's what kids do."

Becca scowled. "_No one_ jokes about Annie, _'friend'._" She stood up and leapt onto the bed. "I'm going to sleep. See you in the morning when we walk for another thousand miles and get absolutely nowhere."

Natalia looked around the room. "Where do I sleep? There's only one bed."

Becca rolled onto her side so that she was facing the wall. "Your problem; you figure it out." She closed her eyes and attempted to get some sleep, ignoring the fact that she was still soaked through.

Breathing rhythmically, she blocked out the noise of Natalia slowly trudging across to the other side of the room in sadness and the scraping of her new friend's t-shirt as she slid her back down the wall and fell into a seated position, sighing loudly.

Becca allowed her eyes to open as she crossed her arms, feeling guilty, but it seemed like Natalia was in the middle of something. She could hear paper unfurling as Natalia hummed under her breath. For a moment Becca thought it was just an exasperated sigh but surely enough the other teenager was emitting a tune from under her breath, staring at whatever was on the page she had unfolded.

Becca waited for five minutes or so, listening to the tune until Natalia eventually cut herself off and began sniffling, the noise muffled as she pressed her head into her hands.

Not wanting to disturb the teenager and assuming it was better to let her get it out of her system, Becca merely tried to drown out the crying with thoughts of Vince, Wyatt, Annie, the mall, and home.


	19. Chapter 19 - Plan

**AN: Last chapter this fic reached 100 reviews! Reviews are great, they let me know your opinions on the story and keep me motivated to write, so don't forget to leave them! - TS**

* * *

><p><strong>Day 1073<strong>

**Becca**

By the time Becca awoke the next morning, it was already light and the door had been unlocked. Natalia was no longer sitting in the corner.

Sitting up, Becca rubbed her eyes with the backs of her hands and got to her feet, gripping her backpack and walking out onto the landing. Over night her cltohes had dried out but it hadn't exactly been comfortable, and she saw her garments were terribly creased as she walked down the stairs, but image was not much of a concern to her any more.

As she took the last few steps down the staircase, Becca heard the end of a conversation and began to stroll down the hallway in the direction of the kitchen. Before she could reach the room, however, Deborah opened the door and walked out on her.

"There's some dry cereal in the kitchen if you want it," the woman smiled, "Natalia and Max are already in there."

Becca was troubled by the woman's mood. "Why are you so happy?" She asked.

Deborah shrugged. "Perhaps it's because no one snuck in and stabbed me and my son in our sleep. Congratulations, you've earned my trust. Go get something to eat and I'll talk to you in a minute."

Becca shook her head and looked at the floor as the woman passed her and headed upstairs. She took a few steps forwards and then looked at the door beneath the landing of the lodge, walking through it and entering the kitchen.

Whatever conversation had been occuring between Natalia and Max ceased instantly as Becca made her presence known. The younger of the two scowled as he eyed her and Natalia looked more worried than anything, but Becca did not relent and leave, instead choosing to sit down.

Locking her eyes onto the bowl of dry cereal seated on the table in front of her, Becca muttered "I'm sorry about last night."

"No problem." Max replied.

Becca glanced at him before avoiding his gaze. "I wasn't talking to you." she looked up at Natalia. "I was a real dick. I shouldn't acted like that."

"It's okay, I guess." Natalia replied.

Becca shook her head. "It's not, but if you want to pretend, then go ahead. I'll try not to be a dick to you."

"You just didn't want me slowing you down while you look for your friends," Natalia replied, "You just have to remember that however important that is to you, it's just as important to me that I find my family."

Becca nodded. "Yep. I get it."

"So where do we go now?"

"I guess we'll wait and see," Becca said. "Deborah said she'd come and talk to us in a minute, maybe she has somewhere in mind. The mall is our goal but she might know somewhere on the way."

"That I do," Deborah announced, walking into the kitchen. The woman took a seat at the head of the table as Becca looked across to Natalia, raising her eyebrows.

"Natalia tells me you're headed for Evansville. That's a long way to go." Deborah told them.

Becca shrugged. "It's all we've got now. We've left Natalia's family instructions in case any of them go back to their camp. If they go there and we don't, it'd be pretty dumb. Do you know a way there? Is there a settlement?"

"I don't know of anything in that particular town, but I know of something along the way, some people who might be able to help – and they're only a couple of miles away."

"I'm listening."

Deborah gestured for them to keep eating as she spoke. "Max and I came from the west. Before we arrived here a few months ago we passed through a small settlement called the Ohio Border Checkpoint; it's a type of settlement that doesn't recruit new members but houses them for a few days as they pass over the border into the next state. A lot of times people leave messages for family or friends who might visit the checkpoint after them and the people there can give them directions as to where their loved ones have gone."

Natalia seemed excited. "So if my family find our note at the camp they might come this way and find you, then you can tell them where we've gone?" She pressed.

Deborah nodded. "And if you've already passed through the checkpoint the people there can provide further directions."

Becca didn't say anything, instead deciding to ponder whether Vince, Wyatt or Annie had already made it through the checkpoint. Perhaps the people there would be able to tell her who was alive or not. "How do we know where this place is?" she finally asked.

Deborah held up one finger and placed a folded pamphlet on the table. "I've marked it here on this map. Should be easy to find."

Becca took the map and examined it. Deborah had taken the liberty of sketching a line leading them all the way to the checkpoint. "Why would you do this for us?" she asked.

The woman shook her head and looked to Natalia. "I'm a mother," she said, "and I know what it's like to lose family. With any luck you'll see them all again, and this is your best chance."

"Thank you, Deborah. Really." Natalia replied, the gratitude clear in her voice.

"My pleasure." the woman nodded. "You'd better get going soon if you expect to make it with enough time to settle in. If you leave it too long the people there might make you wait outside until the next morning; they don't like to deal with people after midday."

Becca scoffed. "That makes 'em sound like assholes."

"I promise they're not, they just have a lot on their plate. They're running their own group as well as accomodating travellers."

Natalia got to her feet. "I'm going to get my jacket."

Nodding in acknowledgement, Becca downed the last of her food and then slid her backpack onto her shoulders. "May as well get going now," she told Deborah, "thanks for letting us stay the night. A lot of people wouldn't do that – and the few who would probably would've killed us in our sleep. Or worse."

Deborah smiled and got to her feet. "I'll show you out."

The woman walked with her to the front door, where Natalia was ready and waiting, having found the weapons they had left on the coffee table overnight. Deborah opened the front door and allowed them to walk onto the front porch. "Good luck," she said, "and I hope you find your families. Both of you."

The two teenagers nodded and began walking until Becca paused and looked over her shoulder. "Thanks again, but... just a recommendation, I wouldn't stick around."

"Why's that?"

Becca gulped and shook her head. "Might be bandits moving through the area. Maybe if you feel up to it you can go to the checkpoint and see if you can't make it to the mall where we're headed."

The mother acknowledged the idea as her palm rested on the doorhandle, ready to close it. "Thank you for the warning. As for the mall, I'll keep it in mind."

Becca nodded, then turned to catch up with Natalia, waving as Deborah closed the door and they were once again left alone.


	20. Chapter 20 - Border

**Day 1073**

**Becca**

The journey onward had been uneventful, to say the least. The two teenagers had passed through forests, fields and a suburb or two, Natalia quizzing Becca all the while as she attempted to get to know her companion.

"Hmm," Natalia pondered as they waded through undergrowth, "What's your favourite colour?"

Becca shook her head and gripped the straps of her backpack. "Don't really have one. You?"

Natalia smiled. "Blue, but not bright blue – a blue-grey type of blue. With a tiny bit of green." Her expression told Becca that it was the colour of something she remembered fondly.

Becca frowned. "That's oddly specific. If you forced me to guess I'd just say yellow because I used to have a jacket which was that colour. My mom got it for me, but she didn't actually buy it until a couple of months after I pointed it out to her in a store... she didn't even want me to have it in the first place, just like she never let me have a varsity jacket."

Natalia hummed. "What changed – why'd she buy it for you?"

Becca chuckled. "Bribery."

"Huh?"

"Long story. That jacket was in the guy's section; I was never really into all the girl stuff, it all looked really stupid to me. My mom always frowned on me for that. I ask her for that jacket and a couple of months later I come home to find she eventually _did _get it for me, so immediately I pick it up to go and show my sister. Imagine how I feel when I find a fucking school uniform folded underneath it."

Natalia gave her a confused look, so Becca elaborated. "My mom and dad come into the room like they've played the conversation through in their heads a million times. My dad's all like _'Becca, we've decided that we're gonna send you to a private school'_ and my mom's like _'it might improve your grades, you're great at gym class but this might give you the push you need. They can teach you to focus'_ and my dad nods and says _'you can have the jacket when you try your **uniform** on.'_ I mean... the fucking _nerve _they had."

"What did you do?"

"Threw a fit, locked myself in my room because I didn't want to leave my school and because I knew they were buying me off. They banged on my door and everything but I locked it and climbed out the window, then ran away. My sister found me a few hours later, said she could speak to our parents about it, and lo and behold, I never went to private school but kept the jacket. Shel was cool like that."

Natalia looked surprised. "You ran away? I could never do that to my mom and dad; they'd worry so much."

Becca nodded. "Yep. Now I think about it, I've done a lot of running away these last few months."

Natalia paused and looked ahead. "Becca – look!"

Turning her head back to the path ahead, Becca's eyebrows raised as she saw a building on top of a hill. "Wait, is that it? That's it, right?"

Natalia excitedly unfolded the map, stared at it and glanced once more at the building. "It must be."

"Come on, let's hope your family is here or something." Becca picked up the pace and headed for the building. It was a big, red cube, built primarily out of grey toned bricks and ochre wood planks. Windows lined the sides of the wall. Becca wasn't sure what it was initially built for, but it looked like it could survive a good deal of punishment.

Floodlights stood outside the building and she could see a form of sports court in the distance but she wasn't sure whether people would really travel so far out into the wilderness to partake in any kind of activity there. Maybe whoever decided to start the business the place was built for eventually gave up and realised it was probably a poor investment.

"Hey!" someone called. Becca looked over her shoulder and saw a man walking up to them both. He was holding a rifle and had a large, grey-blue sweatshirt with the hood pulled up over his face. To begin with Becca thought he was a bandit but put two and two together and worked out he was from the checkpoint.

"You girls here for the stop-off?" the man asked in a kind voice. As he made his way closer Becca saw he had a warm smile on his face which was clearly of east-asian descent, even beneath his grey, frayed hood.

"Yeah." Becca nodded, still tentative. Natalia looked at her for support, suggesting she wanted her friend to take the lead in the conversation.

"Nice, how'd you find it by yourselves? Just scouting – got a group?"

"No group, but we're looking for one." Becca admitted. "A woman called Deborah sent us this way."

"Deborah, hmm? Rings a bell. Anyway, who're you looking for?"

Natalia interrupted the conversation. "I got separated from my family, are they here? My mom, my dad... my brothers, my sister?"

"Can't say you look familiar, but that's not always, y'know... resemblance isn't always a _thing_." the man smiled and walked between them, converging on the building. "Worth a look inside, but I don't think they're here. Name's Jackson, by the way."

As the man turned his back on them to lead them inside, Becca gave Natalia a reassuring look to tell her _"Well, it was worth a try."_

"If you're wondering why I was just hanging out here with a gun like a creep, I was checking the perimeter. We've got a fence set up around most of the place but we haven't got as far as the direction you came from. Don't get used to the protection, though, we don't let people stay for any longer than a week."

"Why is that?" Natalia asked.

"Not enough room, not enough supplies to keep that many going. We're just a funnel. We keep track of where people are going and tell anyone who asks for 'em later down the line."

"Ever run into bandit problems?" Becca asked.

Jackson shook his head. "I'm too good of a shot and bandits are fucking idiots. I just shoot them as soon as I see 'em. No guilt, it's bandits after all, and you can tell them apart from the average survivor. They keep coming but eventually they'll dry up. It's part of the reason we don't keep people around for long – don't want to put them in danger."

The three of them passed through the building's double door entrance into a reception-like area. A woman of similar ethnicity to Jackson approached them and glanced at the two teenagers. "New arrivals?" she asked. Jackson nodded.

"Are you two, like, related?" Becca asked, curiosity overwhelming sense.

"I'm offended you would make such an assumption." Jackson muttered. "But yeah, Cass here is my sister."

"Are you looking for people?" Cass asked, ignoring the teenager's question. She seemed skeptical, but Becca guessed she must have run into at least a few travelers who turned out to be trouble. Kindness killed more often than not these days.

"The taller one's looking for a large family, but we haven't seen anything like that in a while," Jackson informed her. "How long ago did you lose 'em, kid?"

"Yesterday." Natalia replied. Her hopes were dashed when Jackson turned away and muttered "No chance, pal."

"How about you?" Cass asked Becca. "You look a bit restless."

"Anyone pass through called Vince?" Becca asked. "Wyatt? Annie?" she paused and swallowed her pride. "Bonnie?"

Cass ran her finger down a list of people who had visited. "Doesn't seem like it, but I should probably take your names down just in case the people you're looking for pass through. And do you have a destination in mind?"

"Name's Becca and I'm headed for Eastland Mall, Evansville, Indiana. Natalia's headed the same way." Becca said. "My friends will know it's me when they see the way we're going."

"Long way to go. Here's hoping you get there in one piece." Cass told them. "All right, you're ready to go. Jackson will take you through to a place you can sleep, just keep to yourself and don't outstay your welcome. Seven days is the max though we prefer one to three."

"Understood." Becca nodded, turning to follow Jackson, who was heading off through some double doors. He eyed her and caught onto the fact she was uncomfortable. "I know that look," he said sadly, "You've been on your own for way too long, kid. You look tired."

Becca rolled her eyes in her head. "Tell me about it. I once met this guy who did nothing _but _travel alone and he was practically crazy. Nice, though."

"A very small amount of people a nice these days," Jackson told her. "And sometimes crazy can be helpful."

Becca smiled for a moment, but she was distracted as a figure barged through the double doors, not looking where they were going. In a split second they knocked Natalia flat as they pushed past her. Their head snapped around once they realised their mistake.

The person muttered a begrudging apology under their breath, helping Natalia to their feet.

"Hey!" Becca snarled, catching the person's attention. "Watch where you're going..." she trailed off as her eyes widened in fear.

"Oh, shit," Becca gasped. "Oh, no."

She took a step back.

It wasn't a stranger at all.

* * *

><p><strong>Next Time on Into The Fray:<strong>

"I can't blame you for hating him, but you and Donald need to settle your differences here and now, Vince."

* * *

><p>"You stay away from my son. You and your friends are evil."<p>

* * *

><p>"Either you fuckin' accept I'm here and I helped start this place or I can make things bad for you."<p>

* * *

><p>"You've outstayed your welcome, pal. Sorry."<p>

* * *

><p>"What's the matter, kid? You look like you've seen a ghost."<p>

* * *

><p><strong>EPISODE THREE: NEVER LET GO<strong>


	21. (EP3) Chapter 21 - Chase

**A/N: Sorry about the delay again, I need time to write all chapters in an episode so you can expect them daily. Remember to leave a review after reading each chapter because it's the best way of letting me know what you think.**

* * *

><p><strong>EPISODE THREE: NEVER LET GO<strong>

**Day 1096**

**?**

It was like a game of cat and mouse.

The mouse had escaped and that was not good. Gripping hold of his blue-handled blade, a man – the cat, the hunter - crept through the maze of shipping containers, following the sounds of struggle as fingers of his free hand twitched without his brain directing them too.

Hunched over, the man muttered under his breath as he scanned his surroundings. His left wrist rotated in its socket, twisting and whirling his over sized knife in circles as he looked past corners and stalked noises in an all-too-relaxed manner.

He had picked up his 'ally' a few days ago, promising him safety. It seemed as if the stranger had been on the run from something and was in desperate need of a rest, so the man had offered it to him.

The hunter had seemed to relish the companionship but eventually he became tired and decided to kill his new friend. It wasn't something he necessarily wanted to do, but he was driven to do it by the rules that dictated his way of life. He was not happy nor proud of his continued string of murders but he just _had _to do it. The more people he wiped from the face of the earth, the less people died and came back, and the less dead there were moving around. He wiped the dead out at their source and reaped the benefits. It had been an extensive period of time since he had last seen a walking corpse, mainly due to the strict regulations he placed on the docks he resided in.

He had made his home in a single container, though he had a network of others where he stored things. Usually he would take whatever he needed from his victims and throw the rest in a container, never to be opened again. He and his 'friend' had been camping in his metal box, a privilege rarely taken up by strangers. He must have been gibbering and muttering in his sleep because his friend had caught on to his plans of murder. The sleep-talking had always been an issue.

The man scratched his thick, brown beard and recalled how his new friend had made enough noise to wake him up while trying to escape the container. That was his first mistake – it always remained locked. Any intelligent human would have acted like nothing was wrong and waited for him to open the container, _then _make a run for it, but no. This traveler had decided to wake him up in the morning by causing a terrible racket. The hunter had planned to kill him then and there, but it would have made too much of a mess in his container, so he unlocked the doors, let the man outside and allowed him to 'leave', all the while intending to hunt him down and kill him anyway, a few days earlier than intended.

The prey's second mistake was to try and fight back once the hunter had retrieved his sword-like knife. Unarmed, the traveler was not in a good shape to fight and initiating combat had only succeeded in getting him hurt. Once he was slashed two or three times the hunter could allow him to run away, confident that the trail of blood left behind would lead him to his prey. His only concern now was that the traveler would bleed out and die, which would rob him of the killing blow.

The company had not been as much of a blessing as he had told the stranger. He preferred to work alone and was not too happy with people encroaching on his territory - but he did humour them for a while, make sure their last few days were good ones.

Then he killed them.

The man started to whistle as he stalked the area, but his lips became dry in the breeze and the noise cut out soon enough. He did not find it much of a concern, opting to drag his blade along the corrugated side of a container, a groaning scrape echoing through the air as the man's eyes darted left and right. His prey knew where he was, which tickled him slightly, but it became even sweeter once he was certain that there was no escape.

Regardless, he had to hurry; his mark would bleed out soon enough, which would make him sour for the rest of the day.

The pathway between two containers opened up into a wide square. A small excavation vehicle lay to one side in disuse, with a brick wall at the other end of the clearing, opposite to the hunter. In the centre of the clearing, the prey staggered and collapsed to its knees.

The hunter stared at him, a neutral expression on his face as he gripped the handle of his weapon and strolled towards his capture.

The kneeling, dark-skinned man jolted once he heard his enemy's footsteps. He clutched his bleeding shoulder and turned to face his potential killer, eyes widening with fear.

"So," the hunter breathed, his voice surprisingly normal, but slightly gravelly, "Done running?"

The prey tried to push himself away from his bearded adversary but only succeeded in collapsing onto his back, groaning as a sharp pain ran through his body.

"No... don't do that," the hunter gasped. Whether it was said in mock or legitimate empathy, he had no clue. His own mind was scattered.

"Juh..." the prey panted, wincing and closing his eyes, head tilting to one side. "Just... let me go. Please."

The hunter crouched on the balls of his feet, rested his elbows on his knees and pressed the tip of his machete lightly against his captive's chest. "You've outstayed your welcome, pal, sorry." He leaned forward and pulled his ex-ally's hand away from the bleeding shoulder, exposing a deep wound that had almost taken his arm off. "That isn't pretty." he grunted. "I think I can help."

"No!" the prey cried, trying to turn onto his front to crawl away with his good arm. "Keep away!"

The hunter stood up and walked around the bleeding body to stand in front of him. "You're going nowhere." he admitted, resting his blade on his shoulder. He looked away and squinted at nothing in particular. "I don't... _like _doing this, but y'know... personal code."

"Get away..." the prey wheezed.

"Look," the hunter said, kicking the prey lightly in the side. "Pal. Buddy. Friend. Stop talking. Stop thinking. Stop _feeling_... and it'll be over quicker. Struggle and you'll make me want to kill you more." He pursed his lips in thought, looking away again, "Actually, yeah, you might want to struggle because then I'll kill you faster."

"You're... crazy." the man huffed, his face pale. "You're mad."

The hunter raised his hands in a shrug, still wielding his over sized knife. Avoiding eye contact he chuckled and muttered. "You got me. Guilty. I'm offended." He couldn't help but notice his twitching hands as he turned to look back down at his target.

"Lemme go..." the man cried. "Please."

The hunter's forehead creased. "First of all, no. I already told you that I was gonna kill you. Second of all, what do I get out of it if I let you live?"

"Hu...humanity."

"Pff," the man scoffed. "Humanity – who needs it? Buddy, pal, I _kill _people all the time. You're like... number twenty something? Thirty two? I've got no idea. Whatever humanity I had left is gone."

The prey tried another tactic. "You're fucking crazy, man! YOU'RE CRAZY!"

The hunter rolled his eyes and pointed his blade at the body on the ground. "Watch your language."

"CRAZY! CRAZY SONOFABITCH!"

"Look... I get the feeling you're trying to offend me. I'd recommend stopping – y'know, if you want to actually... _not die._"

The captive paused and looked up at him. "You'll let me... go?"

The hunter shrugged. "Sure. Okay." He turned to walk away, giving his prey enough time to crawl a metre or so. Eventually he slowed to a halt, then span on his heel and looked back at the crumpled body. "Actually, Phil, old buddy, old pal - nah."

The hunter held his machete above his head then charged at the now screaming form of his prey. As he met the body he kicked it in the side and rolled him onto his back, then embedded his blade in the man's face. Wrenching it out he seethed as he saw the gash running from above the man's eyebrow down to his cheek, at least three inches deep. The canyon was filling with blood, swelling around the eye the hunter had split in half, but the sight didn't stop him. He attacked again and again, pounding his ex-ally's head into the concrete as he shouted and yelled, sprayed with blood each time he attacked the man's head.

He backed off after a solid minute of striking the corpse then slammed his blade down on its neck, beheading it. Grappling the man's disintegrating head by the hair he shouted at the top of his breath and threw it straight at one of the shipping containers. A blood spattered dent formed as the man dropped his machete, the blood from the corpse's neck wound spilling around the soles of his boots.

Thomas, the hunter, thrust his arms out wide as he span in a circle on one heel, breathing in the smell of blood and gore. Running his hand through his hair he hunched over and choked on a breath, but quickly recovered. Breathing a drawn out, shuddering wheeze he allowed his eyes to close and cracked his knuckles.

There was nothing quite like murder therapy.


	22. Chapter 22 - Ghost

**Day 1073**

**Becca**

"What's the matter, kid?" Jackson asked, eyeing Becca curiously as she looked in confusion and fear at the familiar person in front of her. "You look like you've seen a ghost."

"What the fuck..?" Becca finally breathed, the information her eyes were showing her sinking in. "I thought you..."

"Died?" the familiar face chuckled. "Come here, you. It's been too long."

Becca staggered forwards, acting on instinct, and wrapped her arms around her old friend's chest. "I didn't even think to look for you. I thought the walkers killed you."

The man pulled out of the embrace and rested his hands on her shoulders. "It's good to see you, Becca. Ben Sullivan doesn't die so easily."

Becca was still astounded. "But you got shot... and the walkers..."

"It's all a bit of a blur to me. I got shot and I told you guys to run... then nothing," Sully sighed. He patted his left leg, which was still heavily bandaged. "Bullet went right through. Leg's fucked; it's a bitch walking. But anyway, come on through." He gestured for Becca to walk through into the adjoining room as Jackson nodded to him and left them be.

The room was wide open and the ceiling was high. It felt oddly cool inside which relieved Becca somewhat; the summer heat from the outdoors had gotten to her after all the walking. Natalia walked alongside her and Sully took a second to catch up, limping along and clutching his leg.

"Sorry about bumping into you," the man sighed, apologising to Natalia. "Damn leg trips me up."

"It's fine." Natalia nodded.

Sully took a second to breathe, closing his eyes, then looked at Becca. "I'm so glad you're alive," he said. "All those months ago... you ran off. I told you to go, right?"

Becca nodded. Her friend seemed flustered, and his mental state was reflected in his appearance. While he looked happy at first glance his hatless hair was even more ragged than usual, the whiskers on his face were much thicker and his posture showed he was running low on pride. Her first thought was that he had seen his partner, Emily, die, but her worries were put to rest when the woman in question made herself known at the end of the hall. She didn't recognise Becca instantly, Sully having to point her out.

Feeling a guilty smirk on her face, Becca watched as Emily approached her, just as Sully had, and hugged her tightly. "Oh, my God," the woman said, both her face and voice soft, "It really is you!"

"And you." Becca gasped, clutching her flame-haired friend's back. "Is anyone else here? Vince, Wyatt, Annie?"

Emily's expression turned from one of happiness to one of concern as she mulled over Becca's words. "Becca... we haven't seen or heard from any of them. We thought we were the only ones who made it out."

"That's not to say we didn't always_ hope_, though, right?" Sully asked, his mismatched eyes avoiding Becca's disappointed gaze.

Em waved Becca over to a seat in the centre of the room. "Everyone take a seat," she said, "There's a lot to catch up on." She paused, then looked at Becca. "First off, what happened after I told you to leave us behind?"

Becca shrugged. "Ran into Silas. He almost killed me but I got away, made it to the farmhouse but no one was there. I survived on my own long enough to get here – and picked Natalia up the other day. What about you?"

Emily looked at Sully, whose expression suggested he couldn't really explain the events from their point of view.

"I guess we should introduce ourselves to your friend." Emily offered. "Natalia, is it? I'm Emily, and this is Sully – our group hooked up with Becca's a while ago but we were all split up."

The teenager nodded. "Yes. Are you heading to the mall, too?"

"In all honesty we didn't think anyone would actually make it so we never went to the mall," Sully groaned, catching sight of Becca's scornful expression, "but now we know someone _did _it might be worth a try."

Emily looked to Becca. "So I guess you want to know how we made it out, huh? Well..." she took a deep breath and brushed her hair out of her face as she geared up to tell her story;

"I told you to run and leave me behind with Sully. The walkers were quite close by that point and we thought it'd be the end but we lucked out. Sully was bleeding which would've attracted them if not for the gunshots - and that woman from Sanctum running off - catching their attention. Sully was sitting up against a car so I tried to get it open – after forcing it a little, it worked. We both got inside and hid in the back seat, hoping the walkers wouldn't notice us inside. A few took notice but they either heard something that interested them more or they were knocked over by the others.

"We sat in there for a few hours – I bandaged Sully's leg using a sleeve I cut off and tried to stop the bleeding. By the time the walkers had passed over it was night and he was pale as a sheet but we had to make a run for it, so we picked a random direction and left. Sully almost died that night but I just about managed to save him with some makeshift stitches."

"Got a hole in my leg now," Sully mumbled, his hand moving to grip Emily's beneath the table. "But it's a small price to pay. I think part of the reason I didn't die there was because I knew I couldn't leave Em on her own."

"We came across this place almost a week ago." Emily told them. "You're lucky you made it in time because Jackson's going to kick us out tomorrow."

"Where were you planning to go?" Natalia questioned.

Sully raised his open hands, telling them that they didn't have a plan in mind. "Somewhere. Anywhere."

"But now you're around, it makes more sense to try the Eastland Mall." Emily suggested.

Sully smirked. "Maybe I should ask Jackson whether we can take the car. I helped him find and fix it, and it's not like he's going to do anything."

"You've got a car?!" Becca gushed, then felt a pang of guilt. That jerry can from the house she had looted two days prior could have come in handy, but it wasn't like she knew she was going to need it.

"Sure do," Sully grinned, then his face fell. He breathed a heavy sigh which presented his disdain for the shape he was in.

Emily gripped Sully's shoulder and squeezed it reassuringly. "It wasn't _just_ a car we found, was it?"

Sully regained some happiness as he got to his feet. "Shit – yeah. Becca, you need to come check this out, I think you'll like it."

Becca got to her feet and followed the limping figure of Sully to the other side of the room. Emily watched over her shoulder for a second, then turned back to speak alone with Natalia.

Sully crouched by a bed and slid his hand under it. Straining, he pulled out a large case which was roundish at the bottom and got thinner towards its top. Unzipping it, Sully began to speak.

"The first day we met was weird, huh? All the arguing with Fuad and me...and Mitchell." He breathed at the mention of his younger brother. "There's something I remember, though. When everything settled down I stayed behind to talk to you guys, and you mentioned that your right hand being all fucked meant you couldn't play one of these any more." Sully opened the case and revealed a pristine guitar. "We found the car outside a store with all kinds of instruments in it." he explained. "I couldn't leave without taking a look."

"It's awesome." Becca interrupted, a sharp intake of breath catching in her throat as she remembered her previous experiences with guitars. She had sucked at Roman's camp and got a little bit better at Howe's, but the settlement being overrun – and the following amputation of half of her hand – threw a spanner in the works.

"I said if we ever found a guitar I'd teach you how to play like a lefty." Sully said. "Those two fingers you don't have would come in handy; you might not be the _best _in the world, but I can help. Here." He handed her the guitar and she caught it in both palms, adjusting it so that it felt right.

"Wrong way round." Sully mumbled, relieving her of the instrument and turning it the other way.

"That feels awkward." the teenager complained.

"You won't get anywhere doing things the other way, though," Sully told her. "This is what I meant when I said 'playing it left-handed'." He sat on the bed next to her and readjusted her hands slightly so that they were placed less awkwardly, then gave a simple command; "Play."

Becca tried strumming the instrument, but doing it the 'wrong way round' felt embarrassing. She gave up after making the strings vibrate a few times and looked back to her friend. "I don't know if I can do this." she admitted.

Sully stared at her, his blue and brown eyes rich with concern. "You can," he announced, "I know you can do it. Fuck, I didn't keep this thing around as a paper weight." he chuckled. "I saw how you picked it up, I know you know how to play a guitar, you just have to try." He looked across the room and stared longingly at Emily. "It's always worth trying. Never give up, never give in."

Becca looked back at him. "Hm. You and Em... are you still, er..?"

Sully hummed to himself. "We're square. We know how it is – took her a while but she finally worked out how she felt. For a while I don't think she wanted anything to go wrong, but this is the way it was always going to be." He massaged his bandaged leg. "So yeah. The short answer is yeah. I love her."

"You make that sound like a bad thing."

"It is." Sully leaned forwards and wiped his eyes with a forefinger and thumb. "Loving someone in a shitty world like this isn't good for anyone, because eventually one of you just loses the other. Like Em's uncle or my brother. It's a tragedy waiting to happen, but it's worth risking when you know that person is the one you were made for and you could end up missing your chance to let them know." He looked at Becca, then pressed a heavy hand to her shoulder once he realised he was venting to a fifteen-year-old.

"Now come on," he smirked, "Keep playing. Might be a while before you get to try again."


	23. Chapter 23 - Clean

**Day 1096**

**Thomas**

As the hunter tore Phil's flesh from the bone using his teeth, he couldn't help but feel a little bit guilty. The thrill of the hunt and living in the moment while he killed his prey was definitely fun, but he felt empty and dull afterwards. He killed because he had to, and eventually he'd come to associate the sustenance he gained from it with fun and enjoyment. Deep down, however, he knew what he did was bad.

Life was weird. Three years ago he'd been a man sitting in a grey office cubicle. No wife, no kids, no family at all. Just a run-of-the-mill thirty-two-year-old, brown-haired average white man with a boring job. Then the dead came back to bite the living and he severed all his ties. He didn't like people, but stuck with a few just to shield himself. Eventually they all died and he was left with one, starving and tired. And once it became unbearable, he took matters into his own hands – that was the first time he tasted human flesh, but not the last.

Oddly enough, the devouring of human flesh had not been illegal before the dead had risen. Thomas had indulged in it more than often since humanity's fall. He would be lying if he'd said it hadn't crossed his mind a couple if times beforehand, and now he'd explored his curiosities at least thirty times.

Though it seemed like he was just a violent killer and a savage, he was much more intricate than that. He indulged himself in the murder of his victims, his actions usually more violent than necessary, but he did have a process and limits. He had to remove the head – the best method was to annihilate it completely and hack it off – and dump it in the nearby river. He had to sever the arms and legs from the body. He didn't know why, but it was a process he had to do otherwise he couldn't handle eating his game. He had limits – never kill anyone under the age of thirteen. He would take care of his kills before ending them, hoping they had a calm few final days. He liked to think he was merciful, but his only priority was his survival. If anyone got in the way he'd probably act first and ask questions later, but to make sure he didn't accidentally behead a six year old he kept note of his age limit and hid it whenever he was 'helping' a guest. If he did come across a child he'd most likely train them in his own ways.

Thomas gulped and put Phil's leg to one side. The meat never lasted long, especially considering he had no way of keeping it fresh, so most of it went to waste. The stuff was cooked but that didn't preserve it. It seemed like most of his kill would go into the river like it normally did.

His stomach bloated following the meal, Thomas left the shipping container where he ate and slept, then got hold of his machete along with some fabric conditioner and began walking in the direction of the river. He planned to wash his shirt and blade in the water that was further upstream than the place he usually dumped peoples' remains, then he'd hang his clothes up to dry and put some clean ones on in their place.

The stroll only took five minutes, and he only issued the asphalt stained with Phil's blood a quick glance before moving past the container where he cut the meat and cooked it. Soon enough he found the edge of the river and walked down the concrete steps so he was closer to the water level. Standing on the platform he kneeled and took his red, bloodstained, collared garb off, exposing the white undershirt beneath.

Lowering the bloody garment into the water he scrubbed some of the fabric conditioner into it. Truth be told he had no idea how to wash clothes and he never had, even though he was closer to middle age than he'd like to admit.

Once he was somewhat satisfied with his poor excuse for a wash he withdrew his shirt and put it to one side, cupped two hands under the water and used it to rinse the blood from his face and hair, then held his knife under the rushing water and allowed Phil's blood to follow the current as he cleaned the blade.

Finished, he grabbed his damp shirt and wrung it out to relieve it of some of the excess water, then began the trip back to his sleeping quarters. Once there he hung his shirt up to dry on a string that hung between two of the containers and reached inside his home to grab a new shirt, picking up a blue one he had taken down the day before and tossed to one side.

Once his shirt was buttoned up, he leaned back on his bed. He recalled hearing something about not sleeping so soon after eating, possibly a cautionary tale his mother had told him as a child, but nobody was around to tell him what to do anymore. The worst that would come with it was stomach ache.

Wiping the last few droplets of water from his silvery blade he breathed through pursed lips then propped the weapon up against the wall in its usual resting place. He had used a lot of energy that morning, and he'd have to recuperate by taking a short nap.

–

Thomas's dreams were filled with red. Red blood, red clothes, red eyes. Crimson amid more crimson, scarlet on top of scarlet. The colour did not haunt him; he found it wonderful and intriguing, how it formed seemingly meaningless shapes and fluids as he stared at it, unable to communicate or touch.

Nothing antagonised him in his dreams. His doubts and fears regarding his diet were erased for a short time; while awake he would often ponder over a stranger's reaction if they found out he ate people. He didn't care if he had already planned to eat them, but if he came across someone he liked and chose not to kill them, which was a stretch, he would likely panic if they found out what he did behind closed doors and call him a monster. He wasn't a monster, he was just a man like any other, a man who had found himself a new place in this world. It didn't have to be a good or respectable one, just one that kept him alive.

–

**Day 1097**

He awoke with a screaming headache. Wincing, Thomas raised a shaking hand and pressed it to his sweaty forehead. Sleeping in a shipping container during the summer was like resting in an oven for twelve hours, but somehow he didn't think that was the cause of the headache.

Massaging his temples and pressing his fingers into his closed eyes to alleviate the pain, he draped his legs over the side of his makeshift sleeping place and allowed his ears to readjust to the sound of day.

Something wasn't right, but he did not detect it right away. Slowly but surely Thomas became aware of a ringing that was growing stronger with every proceeding second. Something irritable and certainly unwelcome.

Pushing himself to his feet he managed to balance – which took him longer than he would have liked – and walked towards the doors of his container and barged them open. As he shielded his adjusting eyes from the sun with his forearm, the noise became more evident.

Thomas circled for a circle in confusion, the containers blocking his view, but he soon regained his composure and decided to get to higher ground to find the source of the noise. Climbing on top of a nearby construction vehicle he sluggishly made his way on top of a metallic blue cube and pressed a hand to his forehead to block the sun from his view.

What he saw shook him to his core. How had he not known what was coming?

It was a crowd of them. Hundreds of the dead, about to pass over his docks. There was no way in hell he could fight through them, and they'd just keep trying to reach for him until he starved to death if he hid on top of one of the containers, so he needed to try something else.

Hopping down from the container Thomas sprinted to the box which contained his bed and hastily grasped his machete. Scouring the room for supplies he stuffed whatever he could find into a drawstring bag and gave his home one last, longing look before making a run for it.

Slamming the container shut, he withdrew a set of keys from his pocket and fiddled with them for a second until he found the one he was looking for. Locking the box, he hoped he could come back to it at some point but didn't fancy his chances.

The noises of the horde were growing louder and louder as Thomas hastily turned right and ran out onto the main road. He saw that the dead were no less than fifty metres from the docks as he glanced over his shoulder, running as his aching head cried at him to stop.

He could outrun them, but his routine had been disrupted and he didn't like it one bit. The dead always ruined everything at one point or another, and when they did, Thomas had to run to survive.


	24. Chapter 24 - Contrast

**Day 1059**

**Vince**

Lucia hadn't been lying when she promised that everything would be fine – at least for the most part. Some of the people living in the Eastland Mall community gave him dirty looks as the nurse led Vince, Bonnie and Annie back to their rooms but it didn't bother him too much. At least his actions hadn't gotten them all kicked out, and the higher-ups of the community seemed to be sticking up for them.

Following his breakfast the following morning, Vince was approached by Lucia, who told him that Annie was with Maya - checking in with all the community members - and Bonnie was hunting with Anders, but Vince was _not _to be on guard duty with Lyle that day.

"Vince, we need to talk." The woman said. The man took a moment to finish his mouthful before turning to face his old friend. "What's up?" he asked.

"Come with me."

Lucia waited for Vince to stand up, then led him through the mall. "There are things you need to deal with. I can't blame you for hating him, but you and Donald need to settle your differences here and now, Vince."

Vince groaned under his breath. "God damn it. What do you have in mind?"

Lucia pointed to the optician's where Vince had been held in custody the day prior. "Nothing big, we just need you guys to talk it out. No weapons, no fighting, just _talking. _Settle it."

"I'm not here to make friends, Lucia," Vince growled, "I'm here to live."

"I know. I'm not asking you to like him, I'm asking you to accept he's here whether you like it or not." Lucia's face was stern, and Vince couldn't help but give in.

"Okay, fine." He frowned. "I'll go in there. But if things get aggressive I'm coming out and leaving that pile of shit behind." Before Lucia could answer, he opened the door and walked inside.

The familiar turquoise and navy walls welcomed him. Sitting at the table where Lyle and Maya had scolded him the day before was Donald, hands on the table, watching him as he made his way to the opposite side.

"Donald." Vince greeted through gritted teeth.

Donald did not answer.

"Great start." Vince scoffed. "I know your name because of all those orders your guys shouted at you. You don't know my name because you were too busy trying to kill us all."

Donald shook his head and motioned to stand up. "I dunno why I bothered with this, man." he frowned. "Ain't gonna get nowhere."

"No, sit down." Vince ordered. "I'll humour you."

Donald sighed uncomfortably, then sat down. "I dunno what I can say to make you accept that I'm not a bandit any more."

"Nothing." Vince informed him. "But carry on."

"Lucia already told you I saved her life, man." Donald mentioned. "I helped start this place up – I found Anders, I let people in. You gave me a chance to do something right after you killed Ivan. And I did."

"You still killed Russell, though, huh?" Vince scoffed. "Doesn't change shit."

"You killed Ivan!" Donald growled, his fingers curling into fists. "It's the same thing."

Vince's eyes narrowed as he leaned forward. "It's not the same thing," he told the bandit. "Russell was a good kid. Ivan was cancer in human form."

Donald scowled. "Ivan might've not been the nicest, but he protected us. I didn't like stealing or attacking people but it was either that or be in your place. He did what had to be done."

Vince's eyebrows raised in shock. "So hunting us down until all but one of your group was dead had to be done?"

"Look, man," Donald seethed. "Lucia asked me to try and settle the shit between us but I guess it ain't happenin'. Either you fuckin' accept I'm here and I helped start this place or I can make things bad for you. It's not that I want to or nothin', just that it's probably the only way I'll get through to you."

Vince slammed his palms on the tabletop. "You fucking try it." he snarled, nostrils flaring. "I dare you."

"I'm tryin' to be civil, here, man," Donald retorted, slowly losing his temper, "and you're not in the right seat to be makin' threats."

Vince smirked. "You kidding? You think they'll side with you knowing you're a bandit?"

"Who are they gonna trust? They've known me for months and you for days. You're just a guy who's come into this place and fucked everything up."

Vince fell back in his seat. "_Fuck._" he thought. Donald had the upper hand, and there was nothing he could do to change that until he was in a better position.

An eight-year-old face appeared in his mind and he winced. He had to protect Annie, he had to defend her and getting kicked out wasn't the way to go about it.

Vince swallowed his pride. "All right," he groaned. "We'll try something else. We agree to disagree, we both stay here... but you keep away from me and you _definitely_ keep the fuck away from Annie. That's the only way things are gonna work out between us, all right? Anything you want to tell me, you go through Lucia."

Donald leaned back in his seat and stared at Vince for a second, perturbed. "All right." he breathed. "You got a deal... but in return you keep all that shit about the past quiet." He pushed himself forwards and held out his hand for Vince to shake.

Vince took a deep breath, unable to believe he was even considering the proposition. After a second he leaned forward and shook Donald's hand – the hand of the man who had most likely killed Russell – knowing that he had to do it for Annie's sake.

Once the deal was done, Vince stood up and made for the door first, hoping to catch Lucia before Donald did. "Lucia," he called. "It's done."

The one-armed nurse turned to stare at him. She had been facing away from the door, a few or so metres away, clutching the remaining upper half of her right arm with her head tilted down in thought. "Vince," she gasped, taking long strides over to him. "I heard the shouting." She rested her hand on his shoulder and stared into his eyes. "You sorted things out, surely?"

Donald broke out of the room in a rushed series of steps, barely glancing at Lucia as he walked past and headed off. Vince turned to look back at his old friend and shrugged. "We hashed out some terms. Basically he stays away from me and Annie and I don't say anything about his past."

"Oh, thank the lord." Lucia sighed, her left arm sneaking around Vince's back as she embraced him. "I'm glad you didn't get violent, Vince."

Vince paused for a second, then allowed himself to pat Lucia's back. "It's fine, you don't have to worry. I've been through a lot of bad shit in the past - too many times to count - but we're cool here. It's fine, I'm here to stay."

Lucia allowed him to break free, but when he tried to move off she clutched his forearm. "You're telling the truth, aren't you?"

Vince nodded, and looked deep into her eyes. "It's the truth, I promise. I did it for Annie. I want this to last longer than a few days." He smirked as he turned to stroll off. "It's about time 'Bad Luck Vince' had some good luck."


	25. Chapter 25 - Short

**Day 1074**

**Annie**

It had taken a week or so, but Annie had made a friend that wasn't an adult.

She had mostly kept to herself after Vince's mishap with Donald, only really speaking to the former when they were both in their room. She did not really have time to see him at any other point as he was usually with Lucia. Bonnie was often hunting or checking the perimeter with Anders, which left Annie with only Maya, and occassionally Gary, for company.

After the first few days of Maya picking her up, the adult instead organised for Annie to meet her at the stockroom, trusting the eight-year-old to make the short walk down to the ground floor on her own. A couple of days into the new routine Annie had not been looking where she was running and accidentally bumped into a boy a year or two older than she was. The conversation following the confusion was suitably childish:

"Sorry," the boy said.

"That was my fault." Annie replied.

"I haven't seen you before." The boy admitted, scratching his cheek with a dark-skinned hand. "There aren't many kids here. Do you like to play?"

"Play what?"

The boy shrugged. "Anything. Action figures... sports... stuff like that. There's a cool toy store in the mall that no one really goes in so we can play there if you want?"

Annie shrugged. "Okay. I'm working with Maya at the moment but when I'm done I can meet you there."

"Cool," the boy smiled, then held out his hand. "I'm Cole."

"Annie." The girl shook his hand, then turned to run to the stockroom.

They met up later that day and enjoyed an hour or so of pretending they were elsewhere with toys and games and things until Cole said he had to leave or his mother would wonder where he was. Annie agreed and assumed the same of Vince, but asked if they could come back tomorrow. Cole told her it would be fine, and each day after that the two friends met up at the toy store to play together. Three weeks after arriving at the mall, Maya caught on to Annie's routine of meeting Cole after she finished work and started allowing the child to leave her side earlier and earlier so she could play with her friend for longer.

As Annie made her way to the toy store to find Cole, she found herself wondering how long it had been since she had made a friend her age. Becca had been _double _her age and Wyatt had probably been four times her age so she had to cast her mind back even further.

The neighbour kids; that was it. Before the walkers showed up she had dinner at their house every night. Mostly to avoid her father but also because she was friends with the kids there. She couldn't seem to remember their names any more. They were long dead, anyway.

To her surprise, Cole was already playing alone in the toy store. When he saw her approaching the place his eyes lit up as he'd been unexpecting her to arrive so early.

"Cool!" he exclaimed.

"I didn't know you played on your own until I got here." Annie admitted. "I feel bad now, because you're on your own for so long."

"Yeah," Cole said, "It's cool on my own, but with more than one person it's way cooler." He held up a dinosaur. "I'm gonna be the stegosaurus."

Most of the toys still had tags on them, so Annie picked up a random dinosaur toy and examined it. "Okay," she announced, "I'm gonna be..."

She paused as she looked at the tag. What had Vince said when they were looking at the map all those weeks ago? 'Sound it out' or something. Say each letter.

"...The Veel-oh-see-array-paytor." she mumbled.

"The what?" Cole asked, furrowing his brow.

"The Vel-oh-see-ray-patorr." Annie repeated, studying the dinosaur's tag angrily. Why didn't the letters make sense when they were together?! She could pick letters apart and study them individually, but why couldn't she read words?

Cole snickered. "That's a velociraptor, you dweeb."

Annie felt a pit form in her stomach as her face heated up. She had embarrassed herself and she was no longer in the mood to play with Cole. Instead she dropped the toy dinosaur and buried her face in her hands.

"Annie?" Cole asked, trying to avoid eye contact as his arms dropped to his sides. "What is it? Did I say something mean? I'm sorry!"

"Why am I so dumb?!" Annie moaned, balling her hands into fists and slamming them on the floor. "I can't read right and I just get people into trouble all the time! I'm a stupid idiot!"

"Annie!" Cole muttered. "You're not stupid!"

"Oh yeah?" Annie mumbled, wiping her nose on her sleeve, "How?"

"I didn't know you couldn't read properly, Annie," Cole said, looking guilty. "I never would've teased if you'd said. You're not stupid, you're way better with the toys than I am, I just break them all the time but you know how they work, you can make the ones that you have to put together and stuff/ And you're really nice and you always let me choose which toys to play with first."

Annie looked up and brushed her hair out of her face. Cole was still avoiding eye contact but she caught him glancing at her out of the corners of his eyes every few seconds.

"The other kids here are all jerks to me." Cole mumbled, sniffing. "They were mean to me when we first came here, but you were nice to me and you didn't hate me right away. Just because you can't read too good doesn't mean you're dumb, you're really smart in other ways. You're a really good friend."

Annie smiled. "Thanks. You're a better friend because you can say that to me."

"Do you... um... wanna hug?" Cole asked nervously. "To cheer up?"

Annie nodded and the two of them embraced. She liked Cole as a friend and got the sense that people who were more than friends hugged often, but she wasn't too phased as she knew she didn't like him in the grown-up way.

"Cole!" Someone called. "Get out here!"

Cole broke away from Annie, eyes wide. "Oh! Oh, no!"

The door to the toy store opened and a woman stepped inside. Annie's eyes narrowed as she recognised the woman to be the one who had suggested kicking her, Vince and Bonnie out when they first found out that Vince had attacked Donald. The adult returned the glare.

"Cole," the woman demanded. Cole didn't need any more instructions. He stood up and walked over to the woman who scowled and scolded him in a hushed tone, accompanied with a lot of pointing and threat-making. After a minute or so she was done and told Cole to go and pick up his things.

"What's going on?" Annie asked. Cole avoided her gaze as he picked up his backpack and collected a few toys to take with him.

"Sorry," he muttered, "My mom says I can't play with you any more."

Annie's eyes widened and she looked at Cole's mother. She glared at the eight year old and said, "You stay away from my son. You and your friends are evil."

"What?" Annie asked. "I was just playing with him..."

"I don't want him to be _tainted _like _you._" Cole's mother snarled, pointing at her. "You're trouble and you tried to attack Donald. Now get out and run back to your 'friends'. Stay away from my boy."

The woman walked out and Cole followed her. Just before he left the store and shrugged, muttering sadly. "Sorry, Annie, but what my mom says goes."

Annie waited for her friend to leave and then scowled, throwing the toy raptor across the room.

"You're mom's..." she began angrily, "Your mom's a... a _shit_."


	26. Chapter 26 - Road

**Day 1074**

**Becca**

Becca stirred from slumber as someone gently squeezed her shoulder. "Becca?" Natalia asked. "Are you awake?"

Becca opened her eyes and rolled onto her back, wiping her face with the index and middle fingers of her left hand. "I am now. What's up?" she asked.

"I think they're nearly done." the younger teenager muttered, turning her head to look towards the back door of the room. A cool, summer breeze swept through the hall as the warm midday light spilled through the open doors. Becca continued to wipe the sleep from her eyes as she glanced around and Natalia moved away to allow her to stand up. Swinging her legs over the edge of the bunk bed she had been sleeping on, she followed Natalia past Sully's empty sleeping space and out onto the porch.

Emily, Sully and Jackson were examining a car that sat on a gravel path. The grass surrounding the Border Checkpoint's main building was untended and messy, reaching Jackson's knees as he stood at the front of the vehicle, staring at its internal components beneath the hood.

The three adults were glancing at parts of the car with varying degrees of understanding. Jackson and Emily looked as if they knew what they were doing but Sully had his hands cupped to the sides of his face and was simply staring through one of the back windows of the sedan.

Emily turned to look at Sully, spying the two teenagers who were now seated on the steps leading down to the gravel road. "Sully," she called, "You can take a break if you want."

Sully looked at his girlfriend pleadingly but her expression suggested her comment was more of an order than a suggestion. The man turned and limped slowly over to the steps where Becca and Natalia were seated, a sorrowful expression on his face.

"You okay?" Becca asked.

"Yeah," Sully grunted, not turning his head to look at her. "The car's nearly done anyway and I don't exactly know much about that sort of thing." he paused. "That's more Em's speciality. Kiff taught her some stuff after her dad died, I think. To take her mind off of it."

"Who was Kiff?" Natalia asked.

"Em's Uncle." Becca replied. "I knew him for a few days, but never got to_ know _him, if you get what I mean."

"Nice guy." Sully told them. "He's one of the only men I can actually describe as being a good man. Can't say the same for Fuad or myself... or even my own brother, even if he did balance things out when he died."

"So, anyway," Becca breathed, changing the subject in a not-so-subtle manner, "How did you get the car back here if it's not working?"

Sully looked down the road that led through the forest and disappeared amid trees. "There's a town a couple hundred metres down that road." he told her. "Jackson managed to get the car running for a while but it died as soon as he got it through the gates and we had to push it the rest of the way. It did a number on my leg."

Their conversation was interruped as something scratched on the concrete step behind Becca. Flicking her head around to look, Becca sighted Cass edging out of the building. Leaning against the door the woman folded her arms and looked down at Sully. "Is it ready yet? If you can't get it working by nightfall you'll have to leave without it. This is your last day, Sully."

"I know, I know," Sully grunted, as if he'd heard it a million times before. "It's nearly done. Em said it herself and she knows what she's doing. Might be done in ten minutes."

Natalia turned around and looked at Cass, her green eyes studying the woman before posing any sort of question. "Hey..." the teenager asked. "Can you look after this for me?" she reached into her back pocked and withdrew a folded piece of paper, passing it to the woman.

"What is it?" Cass questioned, unfolding the note and reading it, her eyes darting from left to right and top to bottom.

Natalia's brow creased. "It's a list of all the people in my group, so they definitely know it's me and you'll know it's them, no matter who it is. If they show up."

"All right," the woman replied, putting the note in her back pocket. "I'll ask their names first, just so we don't get anyone pretending to be someone they're not, but I'll definitely keep an eye out; it's what this place was founded on, after all."

"Thank you." Natalia nodded, gratitude evident on her face. "Thank you so much."

"It's no problem."

Becca turned to look back at the car and spied Em moving towards them. "I think we're done." the red-headed woman announced. Sully's face lit up and he got to his feet, Jackson catching him on the way. "Stay safe, man." the border checkpoint member told him. "And good luck." Sully nodded in response, shook Jackson's hand and began edging his way over to the driver's side of the car.

"Sully," Em called. "Are you sure you can drive with... y'know, your leg?"

Sully's face fell once again as he realised his injury might pose problems. "Fuck." he seethed, then regained his usual tone. "Yeah, I guess it might be safer if I didn't drive."

As the man begrudgingly shifted over to the passenger seat, Emily looked at the two girls on the steps. "If you two want to go and get your things we might be able to get going right now." she advised.

Pushing herself to her feet, Becca nodded and headed back into the building, practically barging past Cass. Jogging over to the bunkbed where she had slept overnight, Becca found her backpack leaning against one of the posts. Unzipping it and checking all the items of importance were still there, such as her knife, pistol, jacket and her family photograph, she hooked the pack over one shoulder and turned to leave, catching sight of Natalia picking up the sword she had found in a museum long ago.

As the younger teenager turned to Becca, she glanced at Sully's bed and asked "What's that still doing under there?"

Unsure of what she meant Becca strode over to Sully's bed and glanced at what he had left underneath. Reaching below the bed she pulled out his guitar, still in its case. "Huh." she exclaimed. "Weird. Oh well, let's just take it to him."

The two teens continued outside, pushing past Cass once again, and advanced down the steps where Jackson was waiting. Becca passed him the guitar and the popped open the trunk, placing it safely inside. Becca and Natalia held onto their bags and weapons as they approached the back seats of the car. Becca elected to sit in the back-left seat of the car behind Emily while Natalia took the other.

"Ready to go?" Em asked, glancing at the two of them through the rear-view mirror.

"Ready." Becca nodded.

"All right."

The driver plunged the key into the ignition and jerked it to one side, causing the car to whirr – but it didn't start. "Sonofa..."

"It's fine." Sully told her. "Just try again."

Emily did as instructed and turned the key once more. This time the car jumped into life and the two adults exchanged excited glances.

"Okay." Em breathed, adjusting her feet on the pedals and her hands on the steering wheel. "Been three years since I drove anywhere... just got to get my bearings." The woman wiggled the gear stick, glanced through the mirrors and windows and moved her feet slightly.

"Okay, ready?" she asked again, unsure.

"Yeah, ready." Becca replied.

"All right."

The woman shifted into first gear, adjusting her feet again and the car started rolling forwards. "Oh, man, I'm doing it." Emily whispered, glancing at Sully for support.

"Eyes on the road, Em," he told her. "Don't worry too much; it's not like there'll be any other cars."

The woman nodded in response and shifted into second gear. Becca turned her head and looked through the rear window, spotting Cass walking inside while Jackson leaned against the door, arms crossed. The man smirked as he spotted her looking out, then lifted his hand to wave. Becca returned the favour, then watched as Jackson's hand morphed into a thumbs-up and he turned away, heading back into the building.

Turning back to face the road, Becca glanced at Natalia, who gave her an uneasy smile. Becca grinned back and lifted her left elbow so that she could rest her cheek on her hand. It was going to be a long drive.


	27. Chapter 27 - Chance

**Day 1074**

**Vince**

Following the deal with Donald, Vince had run into some unforseen trouble regarding his post. Donald and Lyle took care of guard duty on the roof, Anders and Bonnie went on hunts every now and again – occasionally joined by Gary – and Maya was accompanied by Annie more often than not. Even an eight-year-old had more of a place at the mall than he did.

In the downtime, Vince had taken to helping Lucia whenever she needed it. He arrived at the optician's where the sick bay was based and hastily shoved the door open. "Any injuries today?" he called.

Lucia backed out of a door on the other side of the room, eyes locked on her hand as she dried it with a towel. "Nothing serious yet," she told the man. "Cuts and bruises from those working on the wall. Usually it's Anders who comes back with a ton of cuts that need stitching but he tries to shrug it off. I assume Bonnie will keep him out of trouble, considering she's gone with him this time?"

Vince snorted humourously. "Maybe, but it's more likely she'll get him into more trouble."

Lucia walked around the table in the centre of the room and sat on its surface and patted the area next to her, suggesting Vince should sit down. Following her orders, Vince took a seat on the table as Lucia spoke once more. "So you and Bonnie have a past, huh?"

"Man, where to start..." Vince hummed. "We met a _long _time ago and set up a camp in the wilderness. Becca, Wyatt and Russell were there, and we got approached by some woman who said there was a settlement for us to go to in Tennessee. It all went pretty well for a year or more until we got attacked from a herd, we lost Bonnie and thought she was dead. We all got out, some bad shit happened, we met you, the Ivan thing happened, we headed for another settlement called Sanctum which didn't work out."

"How so?" Lucia asked, leaning forwards and gazing into his eyes.

"Well, the guys there had this demented way of finding a cure. Drugged us, tried to harvest our organs. Oh, and they shot one of our friends in the face."

"Jesus Christ." the nurse mumbled, pressing her remaining hand to her mouth as her eyes widened.

"We broke out, but not before they captured us all again. We managed to get Annie out and she ran for help, coming across Bonnie. They broke us out the day after with the help of an inside man who didn't agree with the kind of shit Sanctum was doing. We ran for it, one of our group got bit and we made a plan to try and make it here, but it didn't go well. Bonnie tried shooting someone which caught the attention of the dead, we had to go back..." his voice became more rapid as he recalled painful memories.

"It's okay, take your time." Lucia soothed, gripping Vince's forearm. "You don't have to tell me if you're not up to it."

Vince winced. "No. I need to." He gulped. "Sanctum trapped us in the city. We had to fight our way out... from armed men _and _the dead. It's all a blur for me. I remember about ten of us together in that town, I shot a woman off of a building... I let a man run off. Bonnie and Annie found me outside the town... Annie was screaming like hell. Fuck, I'll never forget the sound of it. That's when Bonnie told me Wyatt was gone, and when I looked back at the place I saw thousands of the dead flooding over it and Becca was probably in the middle of it." He leaned forwards and wiped his eyes with a forefinger and thumb.

Lucia patted his back. "It doesn't sound like it was your fault. You can't blame yourself for that, Vince. You need to look forwards. You're safe here and you have Annie to look after. I don't think you can afford that kind of doubt when you've got such a sweet little girl depending on you."

Vince exhaled through his nose and looked away.

"Go on," Lucia ordered, "Go and see Annie. If just the _sight _of her can't cheer you up I don't know what can."

"I can't." Vince replied. "She's with Maya."

"Did you not know Maya lets her go whenever she wants? Poor woman's got a soft spot for her." Lucia shook her head. "Annie's probably in your room right now." She patted Vince on the back and got to her feet. "I might need your help suturing Anders when he gets back, though... because I can't exactly stitch with one hand and you scared my previous assistant off..." she turned to walk away but hesitated and turned back to look at him as he pushed the door open.

Vince looked back at his friend and spied the woman gesturing to her amputated arm. "This... uh... doesn't bother you at all, does it?"

Smirking, Vince held eye contact and continued pushing the door open. Lucia smiled back, then looked at the floor, prompting Vince to turn and leave the room. As he walked away he heard jovial humming from inside and couldn't help sneaking a grin.

–

Vince's face fell as he reached the room he shared with Annie. The eight-year-old was there, but it was a saddening sight. The child was sitting against her bed, head in her hands as she groaned under her breath.

"Annie..." Vince called, crouching and gently gripping the girl's shoulder. Annie jolted in shock until she registered that it was Vince talking to her. Her eyes widened when she turned to look at him, then she jumped up and wrapped her arms around his back. "Annie," Vince asked, "What's the matter?!"

Annie didn't answer immediately, taking her time to accept the comfort that Vince's presence gave her. Once she was ready she kept her cheek pressed against his stomach and sighed a stuttered response. "I lost my friend!"

"Who, Maya?" Vince questioned. "What happened?"

"No, Cole," Annie mumbled, as if Vince knew who she was talking about. "His mom caught us playing and she said he couldn't any more. She called me names and said we were evil."

Vince scowled and paused in thought. "Do you know which store in the mall belongs to Cole's family?"

"I think it's across from ours, above Gary's." Annie admitted, then looked up at him. "Why, what are you going to do?"

Vince turned away and began marching out of their room. "Stay here." he growled. "I'm gonna go sort this out." With that, he continued past the threshold of the store, leaving Annie with her thoughts.

A bridge ran between two sides of the main hall of the mall, under which two inactive escalators travelled up to the first floor. Vince's and Annie's room was on the left side of the building from the front entrance, while his destination was on the right side. As he passed over the bridge, its reinforced metal barriers preventing him from falling off, he looked down towards the entrance of the building and caught sight of Lyle walking beneath him. Maya was talking with a ginger-haired man he didn't know too well, but there were no signs of anyone else he recognised.

He reached the other side of the crossing and sighted the store situated above the one Gary lived in. Psyching himself up, he took a deep breath, approached the closed metal shutters and slammed his fist against it three times, creating an booming echo.

Luckily he didn't have to wait long for a response. A dark-skinned woman with curly hair raised the shutters, her expression suggesting she was expecting someone else, but her face fell when she saw Vince. "What do you want?" she asked bluntly. "What's the problem?"

Vince glared at her. "The problem is you. Why are you so keen on stopping your kid from making friends?"

"I don't want my son anywhere near the likes of you or your poisonous child. I know what you did to Donald." the woman retorted.

Vince forced a chuckle. "That's a fucking joke. First off, you have no idea how far back Donald and I go, and secondly, Annie is _eight years old. _How the fuck can she be poison?"

"Stick around a depraved man like yourself for long enough and I'm sure someone would find a way."

"You don't know me." Vince snarled, leaning forwards. "You don't know Annie. All you know is that I punched Donald because of something _you don't understand. _Annie is just a kid. I'm trying to let her be a kid by letting her make friends on her own. She's not 'evil', she deserves a chance. How would you feel if I said your son couldn't play with her because he was 'evil', huh?"

"It's not the same." The woman breathed, folding her arms and looking away.

"It sure as hell is. They're just kids." Vince told her. "And I bet you and your boy have been scared out of your minds. I bet you've seen people die, but you can't fucking lock him up and keep an eye on him. You need to let him pick his own friends. You've gotta let him make his own mistakes, but let me tell you something; picking Annie as a friend won't be one of them. You know what it's like to see your friends tortured or eaten alive? Almost get killed by people who wanna harvest your body parts for science? You ever had to run through a forest on your own, searching for someone who'll help your friends break out of a trap? Annie's done all those things, and she stuck by us through all of it. If she's not a good enough friend for your kid, no one is. Think what you want of me, but give her a fucking chance."

The woman was taken back by Vince's passionate speech. Her brow creased and she looked concerned, but ended the conversation with an uneasy "I'll think about it."

Vince gave the woman a legitimate smile, said thanks, then turned and headed back to his room, proud that he had successfully defended Annie's honour.


	28. Chapter 28 - Purgatory

**Day 1074 – Evening**

**Becca**

Becca jolted awake as someone slammed the dashboard of the car, yelling "For fuck's sake, no! Don't do this!"

It took her a moment to realise but the car was grinding to a halt. "Sully, calm down! There's nothing we can do!" Em ordered. "We're out of gas, that's not something I can fix!"

Becca glanced to her left. Natalia was still asleep, her rhythmic breaths piercing the silence between Sully and Emily growling at each other through hushed whispers.

"What's going on?" Becca asked, wiping her eyes.

"Out of gas about twenty miles from the mall." Sully replied. "Which is just fucking great."

Emily shook her head. "Sully, we're in no rush. It's fine."

"Yeah, but now I have to limp all that way, unless you want to put me in a goddamn wheelchair and push me."

"It's not like we're getting there today." Em told him.

"Whaddya mean? Of course we are!" Sully replied. "Where else are we gonna go?"

Emily passed him a pistol and reached for the handle on her side of the vehicle. "I'm gonna scope out one of these houses. We can head for the mall tomorrow morning." She looked over her shoulder. "Becca, you'd best come with me."

"Oh, you're just gonna leave me here because my leg'll slow you down?" Sully growled. "Thanks!"

"No, we're all capable." Emily told him as she climbed out of the car. "I need you to watch our backs and look after Natalia... because she's somehow managed to sleep through this whole conversation."

Sully nodded but slumped to one side with his cheek in his hand as Becca got out of the vehicle, retrieving her knife as she did so. Emily closed the driver's side door and pointed the teenager towards the house they were going to scope out, and Becca followed without a word.

The red-headed woman led her over to the front door of the house and tried the door handle, surprised to find it left unlocked. "Lucky," she observed, "but probably not good."

"Might be people in here. Or walkers" Becca added.

"Only one way to find out..." Emily replied, tucking her own pistol in the waistband of her jeans and raising her palms. In one swift motion she slammed her hands together in a loud clap that resonated through the house. They heard the echoing hisses and gurgles of a walker in the depths of the house instantly, but there was no sound suggesting living humans were present.

Becca's forehead creased in concern. "Not the best idea, but at least we know."

"I doubted there was anyone here anyway. If they were bandits or something they would have come to check out the truck and rob us straight away." Emily told her.

"Hm. I guess."

The two allies crept into the darkened building, only able to see by the light of the setting sun. Becca scoped out the living room and the kitchen while Emily took the dining room and conservatory, but their search came up clear. "I guess it's upstairs." Emily suggested, then proceeded to lead the charge to the landing where they heard scrabbling coming clearly from an awkwardly placed room. If the door was pulled open it would block the person who opened it and set the walker loose on the other.

"Here's an idea." Emily proposed. "I open the door and let it out, then you get its attention and back away. Before it gets out of the room I slam the door on its leg or something and stab it in the back of the head before it can reach you. Sound good?"

Becca shrugged. "I can't think of anything better. Worth a shot; after all, it's just one walker." She passed Emily her knife and the older woman backed down the hall, hand on the doorknob. "Ready?" she asked.

Becca nodded and Emily whipped the door open. The walker spilled out onto the carpet, not expecting the door to open, and Becca got its attention with a loud shout of the word "Hey!"

The walker dragged itself towards her but before it could stand up Emily pressed a foot onto its weak back, knelt down and stabbed its flailing form in the back of the head.

"Good job." Becca remarked, applauding. Emily grinned and bowed, then passed the knife back to the teenager.

"Let's scope these rooms," the woman said, "Then we can go get the others."

Becca followed Emily into a master bedroom, reeling back as they spied a human corpse with a gun in one hand and its brain splayed all over the wall it was sitting up against. Emily crossed over to the bed and sat down on it, hunching over. "Jesus." she breathed.

"You okay?" Becca asked, wandering further into the room a little. "It's... kinda gross, I know."

"Yeah, I'm good." Emily mumbled. "Just... reminds me of my uncle, and what that _asshole _Silas did to him."

"Oh." Becca recalled how, when trapped in Sanctum, Kiff had managed to get Annie out so that she could find help for the group. The cost of doing so had been his life, taking a bullet to the back and then several more to the face. "Yeah, I guess you could think of it like that, but without him none of us would've got out of there."

Emily hummed in what seemed like concurrence. "I don't know what I would have done if Hector hadn't pulled me back. I thought he was just stopping me from helping but judging by how things turned out he was probably stopping me from being killed too."

"I don't know about that," Becca retorted. "He always struck me as the kind of guy who was only in it for himself and joined the group just because we'd carry him along. Wasn't that, like... his whole reason for helping us out?"

Emily leaned back and rested her hands on her knees. "Yeah." she paused. "Do you think any of the others are going to be at the mall?"

"I swear someone asked me this the other day," Becca pondered. "I can't remember what I said. I hope so."

Em exhaled. "Honestly, I don't know why Sully and I are going. Kiff's dead. Mitchell's dead. Fuad's dead. No one we know will be there."

"What about Annie, Vince and Wyatt?" Becca told her.

"Sully and I knew them - knew _you - _for a week, and for the first day or two I didn't like any of you. I can't remember but I think I actually hated Vince until he saved Sully from that herd outside the gas station."

"You seemed pretty happy when you saw me yesterday." Becca frowned. "Was that just for show?"

"No, it was legitimate happiness. A friendly face is better than an unfriendly one, and you gave Sully and I purpose, but once we get to the mall where do we go from there?" Emily brushed her hair out of her face and looked over her shoulder. "It's like we're stuck in limbo, and I don't know if there's anything I can do about it. Sully's lucky I'm as patient with him as I am, because his moaning is getting on my nerves."

"Things can only get better," Becca said, oddly optimistic. "Once we get to the mall we'll all be safe and we can start putting things back the way they used to be. It'll never be how it was but I think it's the best we'll ever get. Just... take every day as it comes, I guess. That's what I've been doing; I was on my own for three months and I haven't gone insane yet."

Emily chuckled. "You're strangely inspirational."

"I've had a long time to think about stuff and no one to share it with. Then I met ten people in the space of two days."

Emily pushed herself to her feet. "It's probably best if we don't use this room with this fella in it," she announced. "Come on, let's go get _Sulky _and Natalia."


	29. Chapter 29 - Weekend

**Day 1075**

**Vince**

Vince sat up in his bed. Glancing over at the watch that lay on his makeshift bedside table (which in truth was an upturned cardboard box) he read the time as being 11:47. It took him a while to register why he was awake so late but as he looked across the room he saw that Annie was fast asleep as well, her nose whistling as she did so.

Cole's mother hadn't exactly made a decision regarding whether or not Cole was allowed to play with Annie again but Annie had been grateful that Vince had bothered to try, and from what he saw of the other kid, Cole was probably a little happy about it too.

Still unsure why they had been left for so long considering Maya came to pick Annie up at 9am, Vince got to his feet and glanced outside the store they called home. People were still milling around the mall, but less than usual. Catching sight of Anders about to make a trip down the broken escalator nearby, Vince summoned the man over.

"Hey!" he called, catching the Swede's attention. "What's going on?"

"Whaddya mean?" Anders asked, scratching his balding head as he slung his crossbow over his shoulder. "Nudding is going on."

"I mean... why did Annie and I sleep in for so long?" Vince pressed. "Maya and Lucia are supposed to come round earlier than that."

"Oh..." Anders exhaled, providing an open-mouthed smile. "I get you now. Idd's Sadurday. Lie-in day."

Vince was confused. "We didn't do this last Saturday." He muttered bluntly.

"Furst Sadurday of every month." Anders told him. "Helps keep track of time. Anyway, I have to meet Bohnnie so we can go hunting again – I'll see you around."

"Okay." Vince nodded, waving the man off but still slightly confused. Letting people have a lie-in wasn't exactly the best way of keeping track of time but he certainly wasn't going to argue with it.

Hoping that his discussion with Anders hadn't woken Annie, he turned around to find the child sitting up in her bed. It took him a moment to realise but Annie was wearing pyjamas – Maya clearly took care of her whenever he was absent.

"Hey," Vince called awkwardly. "Did I wake you up or..?"

"Yeah." Annie admitted without a shadow of a doubt. "What were you talking about?"

"Just wondering why we were allowed to sleep in so long. It's nearly midday." Vince explained. "You can go back to sleep for however long you want."

"It's the first saturday of the month..." Annie yawned, rubbing her closed eyelids. "Lie-in-day. And I'm hungry so I can't sleep."

Vince nodded. "All right, then. You go and sort yourself out and I'll wait for you down in the food court." Once Annie got up out of her bed and headed to the back room, he turned and walked in the direction of the escalator.

As he reached the bottom of the steps he looped back around behind them and strolled to the food court, which was only a hundred metres or so from his room. On the way he sensed someone staring at him, likely because of the whole 'Donald' thing which some people still had not dropped despite the man himself telling them it was paved over, but he didn't allow it to faze him.

The food court was filled with tables sporting red and yellow umbrellas along with mismatched benches and seats. Vince strolled past them, making eye contact with Maya – who was sitting at one of the tables – but continued walking towards a man behind a counter.

"What's on the menu today, Sal?" he asked. The self-proclaimed 'chef' turned around to face him, a kind grin on his face.

"Nothing much, unfortunately," the moustached man replied. "Dry cereal again, I'm afraid. Get this, though. Anders stumbled across a _pig_ the other day. If he finds any more we'll be able to start farming more than just my awful attempts at crops. Should've seen the Swede struggle with it has he herded it back."

Vince nodded. "Sounds good." he agreed, albeit distantly. "Anyway, can I have two bowls? Annie's coming down in a second."

"Coming right up." Sal nodded. "I've got some frosted flakes to keep the kid's energy up if you'd like. They're in short supply but I can afford to spend it on a little girl."

Vince shrugged, not bothered. "If you want to, then sure. She'll appreciate it."

"From what I've seen of her, she's a very appreciative child." Sal replied, passing him two bowls. "You raised a good one, there."

As he turned away Vince was almost tempted to blurt "_I didn't raise her._" That honour belonged to Wyatt and her parents, whoever they were.

Vince took a seat at Maya's table. "Haven't seen you in a while." he exclaimed. "Looks like you're taking good care of Annie, though."

"Can't help it." Maya replied, locking her eyes on the bowl she was eating from. "I don't think any living person could bring themselves not to."

"That piece of work 'Carla' begs to differ." Vince retorted, referring to Cole's mother and downing a spoonful of crunchy, dry cereal. "Seems to have a thing against Annie and I... _even_ _though_ Donald's told everyone to leave us be. Called Annie 'evil' from what I've heard."

Maya shrugged. "She's very argumentative; I guess she's just trying to protect Cole. I can have a word with her if you want."

"No need," Vince replied. "I've already sorted things."

"Hopefully not as violently as you 'sorted things' with Don when you first saw him," Maya chuckled, then caught sight of Vince's expression. "I'm messing with you. Anyway, here comes our little 'demon' now."

Vince looked over his shoulder, placing his elbow on the back of his seat as he twisted around. Annie was approaching them hastily, half strolling, half running. Taking the seat next to Vince she smiled at the two adults and then tucked into her first meal of the day.

Stifling a chuckle, Vince glanced at Maya to make sure she had caught sight of the same thing he had. Her expression told him that she most definitely had. Their strangled laughter caught the eight-year-old's attention and she looked at them, confused. "What happened?" she asked.

Vince paused his laughter and looked at the crown of her head. "Kid, you've got this huge bit of hair sticking up." he said, trying to mat the lock down. "It makes you look a whole foot taller."

"Oh." Annie muttered, trying to wipe her hair down.

"And your shirt is on inside out." Maya told her.

"Oh." Annie leaned forward, self-conscious. "I don't understand..." she mumbled. "I've been putting my clothes on for a_ long_ time."

"Don't worry about it, no one will notice." Vince said. "Nobody's perfect."

"It's an innocent mistake." Maya added. "Just eat, then go back to your room and sort it out, okay?"

Annie nodded and continued eating her food ravenously. Vince followed suit and soon enough all three of them were munching relentlessly.

Once their bowls were empty Vince collected them up and passed them back to Sal who put them in a pile to be washed. As he turned to guide Annie back to their room so she could fix her wardrobe malfunction, Maya halted them as her walkie talkie buzzed into life.

"Hold up." she called, raising a hand, then directed her words at the radio. "Yep? All right... be right there. Just one second." She reached behind her back and withdrew her pistol. "Vince, I'm gonna need some help. Something's about to go down."


	30. Chapter 30 - Faces

**Day 1075**

**Annie**

Maya led Vince and Annie to the front doors of the mall, providing just enough time for Annie to dart up the escalator to her room and fix her inside-out shirt. The three of them ran to the glass doors, flustered. Annie wasn't sure why they were taking her with them, as their attitude suggested something dangerous was outside, but perhaps they wanted to keep her somewhere they'd easily be able to find her.

They reached the front door and Vince pressed his hand to Annie's shoulder, telling her to stop and wait. Maya passed him a pistol and the two adults walked over the threshold into the outside world. The eight-year-old hid behind a support pillar, ready to clamp her hands over her ears if she heard gunfire fearing that whatever had happened to her when she'd tried to shoot a walker a few weeks ago would happen again.

Vince began shouting something like "All right, what the hell's going on out here?" but his voice trailed off, his words strangled in his throat. Annie heard what she thought was a cough or a sigh or a choke and was frightened for her close friend's life until Vince passed back over the threshold, his gun-wielding arm hanging by his side and a smile clear on his lips. "Annie..." he called, voice almost silent, "Come outside with me."

"Why?" Annie asked. "What?"

"Don't worry." Vince replied. He seemed like he was choking and she saw tears forming in the corners of his eyes. She'd never seen him like this before.

"Why are you so sad?" she asked as the man placed a hand on her back and guided her out of the main door. Keeping her hands drawn into her chest, she locked her eyes on his face but he was looking elsewhere, wiping his eyes with his forearm.

"Annie." Vince muttered, crouching by her side and pointing to the parking lot. "Look."

It took a moment for her eyes to adjust to the light of the summer sun, but Annie soon saw what she was supposed to be looking at. She noted Maya looking at Vince and lowering her gun, then someone else came into view, positioned dead ahead of her.

Annie felt tears welling in her eyes as she sniffled; not in fear or sadness, but in elation. She now knew how Vince felt.

She didn't say anything because she didn't need to. She didn't have to look because she knew what was there. She let her instincts take control and they told her to run; not away_, _but _toward._

Annie sprinted forwards to the figure who crouched and enveloped her into their arms, collapsing onto their back as she wrapped her hands behind their neck and pressed her cheek into their chest. She heard laughter and cries of happiness.

She kept the side of her head pressed against the torso, hearing Becca's heart beating rapidly in excitement as the teenager herself began crying too and Vince dashed up to them both, strangled chuckles emanating from his throat.

Her eyes red and her vision blurred, Annie couldn't let go - she'd _never_ let go. Pressing her head over Becca's shoulder she allowed the teenager to stand up but kept her limbs firmly locked around the girl's stomach. Tears streamed down her face as she looked up and made eye contact with her friend – her best friend, her adoptive sister, and smiled.

"Hey," Becca sniffed. "You miss me?"

Annie nodded, her cheek scraping against the soft fabric of Becca's shirt. She had woken up that day under the impression that, like Wyatt, Becca was probably gone and never coming back. She was so shocked she couldn't even say anything.

Sensing Vince break away from the embrace Annie saw the man place his hand on Becca's shoulder, patting it gently. His head turned to the other three figures and he darted over to greet them, too. Annie heard clamoring laughter and celebration as Vince embraced a man and a woman in the distance, then looked towards someone else who was about Becca's age. Pressing his hand to the teenager's shoulder he guided the three of them over to where Annie was almost suffocating Becca with her happiness.

"Annie," Vince chuckled in a hushed tone. "You can let go now."

"No." Annie grunted, her voice muffled by her own sleeve.

Becca shifted uncomfortably. "Annie, it's okay," she soothed. "It's not like last time. There's no walkers or bad people here to split us up."

Allowing herself to think straight for a moment, Annie accepted that it was highly unlikely that Becca would be whisked away from her as soon as she let go. As she slowly and reluctantly pulled away she made sure to grip Becca's left hand, avoiding the damaged right one because she didn't want to hurt Becca by touching it. She felt a reassuring wave of pressure as Becca returned the gesture.

Once she had freed Becca from her grasp she felt her breath catch in her throat slightly as she realised that none other than Sully and Emily were with the teenager. The person who was a similar age to Becca was a girl with brown hair and green eyes, wearing a yellow and white jacket.

"Have you got taller?" Em asked, looking at Annie.

"She's turned eight since you've been away." Vince informed them. "Three months is a long time."

"Ah, shit." Becca sighed, then looked at Annie, wiping her eyes. "Sorry I couldn't be there."

"It's okay." Annie replied. Becca squeezed her hand reassuringly.

"It's pretty obvious you know these people." Maya called, reaching for her radio. "Lyle," she announced, turning away from the group. "They're cool. Vince's people." She looked back over her shoulder. "Come on in. After all, it's not like I'll be able to find it in myself to get rid of you."

Maya led them all inside. Vince and Em walked side-by-side as Sully lagged behind slightly. The teenage girl followed along and Becca looked down at Annie before raising her eyebrows and leading her inside.

"So, who do we have here?" Maya asked, looking back at them all.

"Emily Summers and Benjamin Sullivan." Em announced, pointing at herself and Sully as she did so. "I prefer Em and he prefers Sully, though."

"You two seem capable enough." The settlement leader replied, eyeing Sully's injured leg with concern. "And the other two?"

"Becca." The older teenager stated. She glanced at the other girl who seemed a bit distracted, but piped up when they made eye contact. "Oh, um... Natalia, ma'am." she stuttered, soft-voiced.

Maya nodded. "I'll go let the others know we've got new arrivals and check in with Lyle." she looked to Vince. "Maybe you should all catch up?"

"Yeah," Becca nodded. "Where are the others, anyway?"

Vince shared a brief, worried expression with Annie before exhaling deeply. "It's just me, Annie and Bonnie. No one else made it; Hector, Tyler... _Wyatt._"

Annie shuddered and sniffed at the mention of her old friend's name as the psychological wound was opened anew. "Oh, shit," Becca asked, looking down at the eight-year-old then back to Vince. "What happened to him?"

"I don't know exactly." Vince replied. "Bonnie only knows some of it, but Annie saw it all."

"It's probably best not to push the subject." Em muttered.

"Anyway, on the other hand, we did meet two people we never expected to see again." Vince declared. "I'll get the bad news out of the way first... one of them was Donald."

Sully shrugged, adjusting the strap of a guitar case that clung to his shoulder. "Donald? Doesn't ring a bell."

Becca shook her head. "You mean the dick who was with _Ivan_? Fuck, he's still alive and he's _here?!_"

Vince nodded. "I was as pissed off as you when I found out. I've been walking a fine line ever since I punched him in the face, but I'm gonna leave him alone because, firstly, he's pretty high-up here, and secondly, he saved Lucia's life."

"Wait, Lucia?" Becca asked. "You mean _"Don't worry, I'm a nurse" _Lucia?"

"Yeah, she's alive. Donald found her, she was bit, amputated her arm from the elbow down and they started this place."

Sully scoffed. "Sounds like they've done better than we have these last few months, whoever they are. At least this 'Lucia' is amputated and not plain dead."

Becca changed the subject. "How long have you been here? I got away from the town once the fighting stopped and headed for the farmhouse but no one was there."

Vince's eyes widened. "We got here a few weeks ago. We weren't really doing too well before we got here. I was tired as hell and Annie was pretty depressed after what happened to Wyatt. Bonnie was just pissed off a lot of the time – because we were pissed at her for pretty much causing that whole thing with Sanctum - which is why she sticks with this other guy called Anders rather than us."

"Just like Bonnie to up and run away from her group when things get tough." Becca spat. "Bitch."

Emily crossed her arms and shifted her weight onto one leg. "Anyway... Sully and I were together for a while. We only actually met Becca and Natalia here two days ago so everything feels like it's moving pretty fast. Honestly, I was expecting this place to be empty, so this is a nice surprise."

Vince looked at Natalia. "How'd you find Becca?" he asked.

"A couple of days ago I got split up from my family and was attacked by bandits." Natalia told him. "Becca killed two of them and the third ran off. I wanted to find my family but there was no one at our camp. Becca said we should leave them a note telling them to come here so we'd be able to meet up without risking being attacked by bandits by waiting around."

"Smart move." Vince commended, smiling at Becca. "Sounds like you're finally putting that brain of yours to use, Bec."

"You sound like my dad." Becca grimaced.

Vince frowned, then looked at Annie. "'Nee, why don't you show Becca to our room? I'll show the others around and come back later."

Becca nodded, but she looked unsure. Annie, however, was positively excited. As Vince moved off with Sully, Em and Natalia in tow, Annie kept hold of Becca's hand and pulled her towards the escalator that led up to the room. "Come on, Becca!" she exclaimed, bounding up the steps and causing the teenager to trip more than once. As they reached the small clothing retailer that had become Annie and Vince's bedroom, the eight-year-old excitedly patted the sheets of her bed with her free hand and said "Look! They have beds and everything!"

Becca seemed hesitant, but Annie insisted that she sit on the bed and test it out. "Maya found pyjamas for me too. And look, I still have all of the things I collected." she pulled Becca down into a seated position and pulled her backpack out from underneath the bed. Momentarily letting go of Becca's hand to unzip the pack she directed it towards the teenager and allowed her hand to find its way back to the older girl's; never entirely certain that Becca had come back to her.

"Huh." Becca exclaimed, reaching inside the backpack and pulling out one item at a time. "You've got Mitchell's binoculars... Daniel's hat..." she glanced up at Wyatt's glasses which rested on a cabinet beside the bed but said nothing before continuing. "Wow, is this my old jacket? Where did you even _get _that?"

"Vince gave it to me after the fight." Annie mumbled. "It was all I had left of you when I thought you were gone."

"And what's this note?" Becca said, pulling out a piece of paper that had been screwed up multiple times in frustration.

"Don't read that!" Annie squealed, snatching the note away. "Please."

"Why? Do you have a secret admirer, Annie?" Becca chuckled, ruffling the child's hair.

"No," Annie moaned. "It's from my dad. It's not a good thing."

Becca's face fell and she didn't ask any more questions about it; she already understood the reputation of Annie's biological father. After an awkward period of silence Annie reached into the bag once again and withdrew a cleaner piece of paper. "B-but look – I drew pictures of you while you were gone. My friend Cole does that for his dad because he says it feels like he's always with him if there's a picture of him on the wall." She passed her favourite to Becca and he teenager examined the childlike scrawling. Despite the desperate lack of refined skill, it was clearly Becca, depicted in crayon, wearing her red-and-white varsity jacket, cheek scar visible across her face.

"This is... really good, Annie." Becca muttered, putting her left arm around the child's shoulder. Annie rested her head on Becca's lap as the teenager patted her arm.

"I'm tired even though I woke up like half an hour ago." Annie mumbled, yawning.

"That's okay." Becca replied. "I'm gonna be here when you go to sleep and when you wake up again. I came all this way for you and fuck if I'm gonna let us get split up again."

Annie allowed her eyelids to become heavy as Becca kept hold of her shoulder. It had been an unexpected turn of events; Becca, Sully and Emily just appearing out of the blue like that, but it was more than welcome. Annie had her 'sister' back now.

She looked up at Wyatt's glasses on the bedside cabinet, believing she could see him looking back at her through the lenses, approval and pride on his face.

Now she could stop surviving - and start living.

* * *

><p><span><strong>NEXT TIME ON INTO THE FRAY:<strong>

"I thought things were going to get better, but people just seem angry all the time."

* * *

><p>"So, buddy, pal. You come here often? Got any supplies? I'm awful hungry."<p>

* * *

><p>"Becca, I don't think they're ever going to get here."<p>

* * *

><p>"Look, man, I just want to know where your crew is."<p>

* * *

><p>"I've seen how you all look at me for things I barely had a hand in."<p>

* * *

><p><span><strong>EPISODE FOUR: UNTO THE BREACH<strong>


	31. (EP4) Chapter 31 - Tin

**Day 1096**

**T. Church**

"What did I fuckin' say? I called first dibs on any food we get!"

Several figures wearing hats, shades, hoods and masks stood in a forest clearing, arguments well underway – mainly between two of the six.

"You din't say nothin'!" One of them retorted, gesturing to his chest with a thumb. "S'me who called dibs, asshole!"

Between the six of them lay a pile of supplies - large enough to keep them all fed - but as was the nature of bandits, life was a competition and the only acceptable position was first.

"Bullshit!" The loudmouth known as Kirk replied, leaning forward and pointing a well-aimed finger at his ally-slash-enemy. "Someone back me up on this shit, Jethro's always been a filthy fuckin' liar!"

Jethro leaned back out of the way of Kirk's hand and spat to one side. "Yer a fuckin' idiot, pal. Din't I call dibs, fellas?" His bushy head glanced around the clearing for support. No one gave him the satisfaction.

Church kept his vision fixated on the grass below him. Better to let the others wear themselves out and then swoop in himself like a buzzard. Hazel, Rook and Carson likely had the same idea.

"See, Jethro? Ain't nobody sidin' with you." Kirk jeered, shifting the cigarette that sat between his grinding teeth. Church didn't know how the man was able to smoke with such old, out-of-date supplies.

Jethro shook his head. "Nobody's siding wit' you, neither."

"Yeah well my point stands." Kirk spat. "Dick."

Rook, the strongest of the bandits and by far the tallest, puffed out his chest and glared at the arguing men. "Fucking settle this already!" he snarled, causing the other two to back off beneath his shadow. Rook was the leader; they all feared him, and he feared nothing.

Church, Hazel and Carson took a step back too as Rook approached the pile himself. "If none of you can make a decision, then the big dog is the one who takes first." He pounded his chest with his fist to show his dominance, then used the same hand to slick back his thinning, grey hair.

Accepting the inevitable, Church retreated and waited his turn. Though he was the newest addition to their little crew, he was already Rook's favourite; he kept quiet and did what the man told him to do. In return, Rook didn't have to break his fingers.

Fred raised a can of indistinguishable food and wrenched down the bandana that covered the lower half of his face. Grinning, he slammed the blade of a knife into the lid and wrenched it loose, pouring whatever was inside into his mouth and down the front of his shirt.

Allowing himself to exhale deeply, Rook glanced over at Church and beckoned him over. "Church, you're up next. Hazel and Carson after that. These other two fuckers get nothing after the headache they've given me."

Church walked over to Rook and retrieved the tin can from his grasp silently. As Kirk and Jethro glared at him, Church turned his back on the group and pulled down his own mask. He downed some food, the taste dull and lacking, then pulled it back up and walked off to sit on a tree stump.

"Hazel says his face is fucked up," Carson muttered to Kirk. "Like he's missing an eye or somethin'. Or his nose is all torn up."

"Yeah, you can see the bloodstains all on his face." Jethro replied. "Like he hasn't washed since whatever happened... happened."

Church smirked beneath his mask. They weren't wrong, but he didn't like drawing attention to himself whenever he could afford it. For now he just wanted to survive and stay out of everyone's way, especially considering bandits had a habit of stabbing their own allies in the back of the neck over the last can of beans. The sight of his own face disgusted him, and if it was masked he'd never see its reflection again.

"Hey, ugly!" Kirk called. "You gonna hold onto that can all night?"

Church didn't look over his shoulder, knowing that Kirk was not to eat anyway. Instead he waited for the only female bandit in the group, the raven-haired and viciously scarred Hazel, to approach him and snatch the can from his grasp. "Outta the way, asshole." she growled. Church didn't take offense, knowing she didn't really care about his opinion and was in fact one of the better members of the group. Once she'd had her share she threw the can to Carson.

"First time in two days," the bandit chuckled, downing the remainder of the can. Carson often argued over the supplies and missed out a lot of the time, but it seemed as if he had finally learned his lesson and was attempting to get on Rook's good side.

Kirk and Jethro merely watched from the sidelines, spite visible on their face, as Carson threw the can to the ground with a clatter.

"Took y'all fuckin' long enough." Rook grunted. "Now come on. Daylight's burnin', we gotta find a place to stick around before it gets dark and the creepy crawlies come out."

Church got back onto his feet and watched the others all grab something from the pile. Once they had all taken their share and were ready to move he grabbed what was left and lagged behind as the rest of them paved their way through the forest.

The six of them travelled on as the sky got darker and slowly turned purple. As the crew of bandits strolled through the forest - Rook leading the way, Hazel and Carson just behind him, Jethro and Kirk near the back and Church at the rear – two at a time would occassionally break off and skewer any roamers that came their way. They were well aware the dead were coming their way and it was easy to handle them; simply avoid the hands and teeth, then stab them in the head. Kirk had 'invented' a weapon - a blade attached to a long stick – which he named a poleknife. He barely had to break formation to attack roamers any more and Church found it surprising the others hadn't followed his example.

A strangled rasp emanated from behind the group, making the roamer Church's responsibility as he was bringing up the rear. He looked over his shoulder, then saw a dead woman scrabbling towards him. Uttering a single sigh, he withdrew a blade from his hip and grappled the corpse's neck with his right hand... feeling a strain on his upper arm as he did so. The ache of an old wound caused him to hesitate for a second but he soon recovered and slammed his knife into the roamer's face, catching it right between the thighs. The decomposed flesh allowed his blade to slide out easily and he turned back to catch the group, noting that they had barely moved five metres since he had turned back.

None of his allies turned to see if he was all right, but Church didn't care. He wouldn't have looked back for any of them either, perhaps besides Rook. Puffing through his mask, Church fell back into formation and continued travelling on.

–

After around half an hour of solid walking the group arrived at the back of an abandoned shed, breaking out of the forest. Church wasn't sure as it was dark, but it seemed like the trees thinned out and there was a road just beyond them.

Rook halted the group. "This place looks fine. You all set camp out here, I'm gonna check inside."

"That place is big enough for all of us." Kirk complained. "We gotta camp out here?"

Rook did not turn back to face his companion but continued down the side of the shed. "Yeah."

"Fuck you, Rook."

Before the final syllable could escape the bandit's mouth, the leader of the group twisted on the spot and thrust his fist into the man's jaw. Kirk collapsed onto his backside, none of the other bandits daring to rush to his aid; fearing Rook's wrath. There was a reason they all feared him, and it was the same reason he was the leader. If any – or _all – _of the group attacked him he was skilled and resourceful enough to fend them off. It was unlikely that all of the group would ever attack him, as the potential to 'accidentally' backstab another 'ally' would be too high.

"Stay there." Rook ordered, turning once again to head into he shed. "Church, with me."

Surprised, Church looked up and glanced at the other group members quickly, before following his leader into the unknown.


	32. Chapter 32 - Hygiene

**Day 1082**

**Becca**

Becca felt like a spare part at the mall. Annie and Vince were already accustomed to their new way of life having lived there for three and a half weeks. Becca had resided in the settlement for seven days now but could not let her guard down. She had been on her own for over three months so she was suitably paranoid and slightly uneasy around so many people at once.

At this exact moment she was seated on a table in a re-purposed eye-wear store. Vince had brought her there, but said he had to shoot off to attend to something else so the teenager was left alone in the room. She let her legs hang over the edge of the table, hunched over and watching her feet swing as her palms drummed against the table.

The door to the left of the room clicked open and a familiar face entered the room. The hispanic woman known as Lucia smiled warmly at Becca then walked over to the space ahead of her. "Never thought I'd see you again," she admitted, trying not to sound harsh, "But you thought the same of me, I'm sure."

Becca nodded, smirking, then lifted her right hand as she glanced at Lucia's stunted elbow. "Snap." she chuckled.

Lucia looked confused for a second, then glanced at her arm. "Oh, right. That. I keep forgetting it's there. Donald did it – saved me – so you don't need to concern yourself with him. If it's any consolation he's making an effort to keep away from you, Annie and Vince."

"I know, Vince told me it all." Becca nodded, glancing around the room.

"Speaking of whom," Lucia pondered, "I thought he was bringing you down here..?"

Becca shrugged, holding her hands out. "He said he had to go."

Lucia looked disappointed for a moment, as if she had expected Vince to stick around, but regained herself swiftly. "Anyway, the reason I wanted you down here is to check on some things." she eyed Becca's right hand. "Are you comfortable with letting me see that?"

Becca paused in thought, then began unwrapping the bandage around her hand. "Yeah. You're a doctor so I guess I kind of should."

"I'm a nurse." Lucia corrected, causing Becca to chuckle and mutter "Somehow I expected you to say that."

The teenager exposed her hand, squirming at the sight of it. Her hand was half its original width, the amputated area rounding off towards the wrist and creating a curve. It looked as if – all those months ago - Vince had actually had to slice at her hand twice to cut off the bitten area, which she had never noticed before. The initial cut had been healed up with a lighter while she was unconscious, leaving pinkish-brown burn scars to tie the torn flesh together.

"Seems to be healing nicely, given the fact you've been out in the wilderness and dirt for so long." Lucia admired, holding Becca's palm between her fingers as she studied the wound. "You were right to cover it with that bandage; it helped shield the wound from the elements."

The nurse's hand found its way further up Becca's arm and began unwrapping the now brown bandage – caked in dried blood – that covered the knife wound she had received a week or so ago while rescuing Natalia.

"This one looks recent." Lucia muttered. The teenager winced as the solidified goop was torn from where it was stuck to the area just below her elbow. "This cut fairly deep, and it seems like you've been sitting on it for a week or so." she observed, walking over to a bucket filled with water. "Don't worry, this water is clean and purified; I only work with the best. I'm going to clear up the dried blood and then hold the wound together with some... special tape." she uttured the last two words in a slightly patronising tone as if Becca didn't know what she meant, but the teenager didn't take offence.

Lucia retrieved a sponge from a packet, making sure Becca saw that it was brand new, and dunked it under the water. "This might sting a little," the nurse warned, then pressed the pad against the girl's forearm.

"_Ow,_" Becca seethed, jolting a little but noticing the water was warm and a little soothing.

Lucia removed her hand and looked at her. "Sorry," she apologised, "Can I keep going?"

Becca nodded, but squinted and gritted her teeth, jumping a little again as Lucia pressed the sponge to her arm once again.

"I know it hurts," the nurse soothed, "but I can get this over quickly and it'll clear up a lot easier. How did you get it, anyway?"

"Bandits." Becca breathed. "I got knifed by one while I was saving Natalia, the girl I came here with." Her left hand curled into a fist as Lucia cleared up her arm.

"Bandits attacking teenage girls." Lucia snarled. "Disgusting."

Becca smirked and caught Lucia's eye. "I attacked them first." she chuckled, "...but then again, that was because they were gonna do stuff to Natalia. Bad stuff."

Lucia's eyes widened for a moment, then narrowed in a scowl. "Do you think she needs to talk to someone about that?" she asked.

Becca shrugged. "She might do. It can only help, I guess." She watched as Lucia lay the sponge down in the bucket and retrieved a towel.

"Again, this towel is clean," the nurse told her. "As pristine as we're ever going to get. Daniel always used to complain about germs and that sort of thing."

Feeling a bit awkward, Becca felt the need to apologise. "I know it was months ago," she began, "and stop me if this brings back bad memories, but I'm sorry about... y'know... putting your boyfriend down."

Lucia shook her head and glanced over at the capital I that had been cut into Becca's arm around the same time. "No need," she told the teenager, "You didn't kill Daniel, blood loss did. You just did what had to be done, I see that now."

Becca didn't push the subject any further. The nurse turned back to the table behind her, this time carrying over some clean bandages and what looked like band aids. "These are butterfly stitches," Lucia explained, catching Becca's confused glance. "They'll help hold your knife wound closed so it can heal. Can you hold it together? I've only got one arm."

Becca nodded and looked away as Lucia tended to her wound. It took a few minutes but Becca felt as if the skin on her arm had been tightened by the tape-like substance. Lucia held the teen's arm out and began expertly winding a bandage around the leftovers of her amputation, then repeated the action with the tightened knife wound.

"That should do for now," Lucia told her. "Any cuts or anything you're concerned about, I'm your woman."

Hopping off of the table, Becca turned to head for the door, but Lucia put her hand on the teen's shoulder. "Becca," Lucia called, "That goes for... _personal... _hygiene too. I understand you've taken care of yourself so it shouldn't be a concern, but just in case you need any help with that, I'm here."

Becca was taken aback slightly, but appreciated Lucia's concern. "...Okay." she mumbled. "Bye."

"And Becca," the nurse called one last time, "See if you can get hold of some new clothes, too. This place is filled to the brim with brand new stuff. You're one of only a few teenagers here so you might want to claim some things that fit before anyone else shows up."

Nodding, Becca opened the door, muttered "Thanks," and left the room.


	33. Chapter 33 - Loyalty

**Day 1096**

**T. Church**

Rook led Church into the roadside shed and glanced around. "Any roamers?" he growled. "I saw some dead'uns outside."

Church couldn't see any dead, so he shook his head. "Nothin'." he wheezed, voice weak from disuse. What unnerved him was that the roamers outside had been put down, so someone had passed through the area. It was too hard to tell how long ago, so Church remained uneasy.

"Good." Rook grunted, ambling back over to the doors and closing them. "Listen, li'l brother, I gotta talk to you." Once the doors were closed and the others couldn't storm in unwanted Church watched his leader stroll over to an upturned shelf and sat on top of a crate behind it.

The bandit walked over to his master and pulled a large toolbox over in his direction to use as a chair. Rook pulled down his mask, exposing his grizzled face and greyed facial hair, then eyed Church with his beady brown eyes. "I'm gettin' tired of this shit." Rook exhaled. Church leaned back in his seat. While Rook was usually a force to be reckoned with, he looked ultimately frail in private. He was getting weaker each day, growing older. "Kirk and the rest – _always _arguin'." Rook grunted.

Church nodded silently.

"Listen, kid, I trust ya." Rook admitted. "You're new, but I feel like I know you best out of all of 'em. You might not say much and I can't remember what your face looks like, but you remind me of... a young me. And I ain't gettin' any younger, you follow?"

Church folded his arms, tipping his head in acknowledgement once again.

"But look, we got ourselves a problem." Rook told him. "We got rules to enforce and those fuckers out there been breakin' 'em too often. They don't appreciate those rules keep 'em alive no more. It started with 'em gettin' a li'l pissed at me now and again but it's gone so far that they've started planning."

His brow creasing beneath his cap, Church levelled his gaze with Rook's. "What're you saying?" he grunted.

"Every night I've seen Kirk standin' over me, Church." Rook told him. "He's goin' for gold, you follow? Every night I've seen him, I've been awake and he's backed off. I'm tired of this shit and they all know it by now."

Church shook his head and rested his masked chin between his forefinger and thumb. "What do you say we do?"

"I need you on my side, Church. Gotta make sure you've got my back, brother. If they start challenging my authority then you gotta help me enforce it."

"Mm-hmm." the bandit hummed in response. Rook was the only one of the bandits he felt any semblance of attachment to, so his alignment was clear. As far as he was concerned the other bandits could go and fuck themselves up the ass with a rusty rebar; they weren't worth keeping around, let alone in charge, so Rook's leadership had to remain. "I've got ya," he mumbled.

"Glad to hear it." Rook replied, his old eyes lighting up. "Now go out there and make sure they ain't plannin' shit. Make up some shit about me sayin' I brought you in here 'cause you don't contribute enough."

Church nodded and got to his feet, leaving Rook alone in the shed. Closing the flimsy, broken-padlocked door behind him he walked over to the centre of the clearing where the others had set up camp.

"What did he want?" the raven-haired Hazel asked, lighting up a cigarette.

Kirk chuckled as he cleaned his long-handled knife contraption on his shirt. "If it's Church goin' in there, Rook probably wanted a dick polish. You were in there long 'nuff."

Church seethed beneath his mask, his teeth grinding, but maintained his composure as he sat down on the grass.

"Not talkin' today?" Jethro grunted, "Or you just dull in the head?"

Hazel shrugged. "Him not talking is better than him talking too much. Guess it wasn't anything important."

Carson leaned back on the grass and rested his hands behind his head. "I'm goin'a sleep. No one kill me, please."

"I'm on watch." Jethro muttered, avoiding Church's steely gaze. The latter sighed with relief internally when he realised Kirk would be asleep, and therefore unable to stand over Rook or contest his leadership.

"I'll keep an eye out too," Hazel suggested, "This place is too open for my liking. I have no idea why Rook won't let us inside."

"Because he's a fuckwit." Kirk snorted. Church threw him a narrow-eyed glance, causing him to apologise. "Okay, sorry I insulted your _boyfriend_, Church."

The masked bandit cracked his knuckles, frightening Kirk a little. He had already been punched by Rook and had no intention of getting in a fight with Church. "I was jokin' man, Jesus."

"Don't rile him up." Jethro grunted as he faced away from the centre of the circle. "Got no clue what he's capable of. Looks pretty tough to me."

Hazel sighed. "_Thank you. _We don't need to keep fightin' like this, we're all tryin' to survive. We're here to fuck other people over, not each other."

Church nodded and leaned back on the grass, resting his hands behind his head as Carson had. It was a nice, warm night – not so hot that he was uncomfortable, but not so cool that he couldn't sleep – and he tried to get some sleep. He didn't exactly trust any of the others not to try anything while he was unconscious, but he had to risk it if he wanted to stay refreshed and alive. Luckily Hazel and Jethro were on watch; had Kirk stayed up, Church would have been forced to as Rook had advised.

As he leaned back, Church felt his sight fade as he succumbed to sleep in the wilderness.

* * *

><p><span><strong>Day 1097<strong>

Waking several hours later, a pale blue light cast upon his face, Church felt his face pressed into the grass. Wiping his eye with the back of his hand, he pushed himself onto his backside and glanced around. The campfire in the centre of the clearing had been reduced to smouldering ashes but the other bandits were all already awake.

"Mornin', asshat." Carson greeted. Church merely grunted in response and reached for a can of indistinguishable food which lay in the centre of the clearing.

"So fuckin' hungry." Jethro grunted, digging into a can of his own. "Goddamn." Kirk nodded in agreement, knowing what it was like to go without a meal overnight.

Carson shrugged. "Shoulda' just played by the rules and let Rook take first food." He suggested. "Not that hard, really, and if you suck up like Church here, you get treated better."

"I ain't bein' no-one's bitch." Kirk snorted.

Hazel shook her head. "Better to be someone's bitch than to go without food."

"Yeah, well you're used to being beneath Rook." Kirk retorted. Hazel shook her head with disdain and looked towards Church. "Surely Rook should be up by now?" she asked. "Go and check if he's okay."

Not wanting to get into an argument, Church did as he was told but took his can of food with him. Walking over to the maintenance shed he gripped the tin in one hand and pulled the door open with the other. He made a guttural noise to alert his leader to his presence, but no response came.

As Church walked further into the shed, his sight fell upon the 'desk' Rook had sat behind during their discussion the night before. His can clattered to the floor as he lurched back in shock and horror.

Rook was a roamer now, pinned to the thin, corrugated wall of the shed by none other than Kirk's pole knife.


	34. Chapter 34 - Refuted

**Day 1087**

**Becca**

While Becca appreciated Annie's company and loved the kid like her own sister, the eight-year-old didn't really understand that the teenager might appreciate some time alone to attend to her own matters. Luckily enough, the two of them bumped into Maya one day, who stopped them for a chat.

"Becca, right?" the woman asked. "Sorry this has taken so long, I've been buried in chores and things. I just need to talk to you."

Becca folded her arms and shrugged. "Go ahead, I don't have anything to do." She admitted.

"That's the thing." Maya replied. "How old are you now?"

Becca shook her head. "I don't know. When was the start of August?"

Maya paused in thought, then provided an answer. "Almost two weeks ago."

"I guess I'm sixteen then. And I missed by birthday." She frowned, disappointed but all too aware that birthdays were virtually irrelevant in a post-apocalyptic world.

"Like I did." Annie mumbled. "It sucks. No one got me anything."

"This place isn't a bad gift, y'know." Becca smirked - then turned back to Maya. "So why are you interested in how old I am?" she asked.

"Work duty." Maya informed her. "I honestly had no idea how old you were; could have been fourteen, could have been eighteen." she sighed. "If you were eighteen you'd effectively _have _to do some work around here, but you've got two years until that time."

Becca was confused. "But Annie has a job, doesn't she?"

"She insisted." Maya grinned, looking at the child who stood gripping Becca's left wrist. "If you want to... _insist... _too, then I can find a place for you, but if you don't feel up to it like Natalia, then I won't have to ask around."

"You make it sound like you don't want me to get a job."

Maya's lips pursed. "I don't want to spend all that time asking everybody when I have my own work to do."

Becca shrugged. "I was gonna go check on Natalia anyway. If you wanna take Annie off of my hands for a while that'd be helpful."

Annie cast Becca a fearful, offended look. "Becca, don't you want me around any more?" she blinked a couple of times as if she was about to have a breakdown.

"It's not like that," Becca insisted. "I just need to talk to Natalia in private about some stuff you wouldn't understand." She looked at Maya. "Is leaving her in your hands a problem?"

"Not at all." Maya told her. "The opposite, in fact. Annie can help me sort some things out quicker. Come on, princess."

Annie reluctantly crossed over to Maya, slouching as they walked off. Just before Becca turned to walk off Maya looked back over her shoulder and said, "By the way, Sully and Emily both have posts now, if you're looking for them; Sully's on rooftop duty with Lyle and Donald, Emily's helping Lucia at sick bay."

Becca nodded then turned to walk off. Emily's job seemed to suit her quite well; a long time ago she had mentioned something about taking first aid courses and had been the go-to medic for her group for a while, so she could only get better training under Lucia. Sully, on the other hand, had been notably disinterested last time he'd been put on watch duty. His brother, Mitchell, was more into that sort of thing.

Becca paused. Annie still had Mitchell's binoculars which Sully could potentially use for his post. Perhaps he would appreciate his job more if he could delude himself into believing his brother was present somehow.

Walking under the large bridge that connected the two sides of the mall's central hall, Becca veered to the left and headed for one of the stores on the ground floor. Natalia had been given her own room - probably under the assumption that her family would soon arrive and need a place to sleep – situated on the opposite side to the one Becca now shared with Vince and Annie.

The teenager knocked on the glass door gently. Unlike most, Natalia regularly left the security shutters open. While they had originally been intended to prevent robbery when the mall was closed for the night, survivors and residents now used them for privacy or if they wanted to feel safer.

When no answer came, Becca reached for the door handle and made her way inside. Natalia had been issued a clothing store similar to the one Becca resided in, but the white walls made it feel a lot cleaner and a lot brighter inside. She couldn't help but feel jealous.

Glancing around the room Becca saw that Natalia was in bed. It was an odd time to be asleep, but the younger members of the mall didn't exactly have much to do as Maya had explained.

"Hey, Natalia," Becca called. "I've gotta talk to you."

Natalia rolled onto her back. It seemed like she was harbouring some reluctance, but she always came across as polite. "What did you want to talk about?" she asked, wiping her eyes and sitting up.

"Not much." Becca admitted, taking a seat on a nearby crate. "Just some stuff Lucia spoke to me about the other day."

"The nurse?" Natalia enquired. Becca nodded in confirmation, drumming her six fingers against the wood of the box she sat on top of. How was she going to word this?

She pursed her lips. "Okay," she began, slightly awkwardly, "You know what happened in the woods with those bandits? What... almost happened..?"

Natalia nodded slowly, and frowned. "It freaks me out just thinking about it."

"Lucia said that, if you wanted... and felt up to it, you could speak to her about it. If not, I'm here too, and I kind of went through a similar thing."

Natalia nodded. "Thank you." she mumbled. "It's good to know that you understand. Well, not _good, _but you see what I'm saying, right?"

Tipping her head in acknowledgement, Becca pushed herself back onto her feet and turned towards the door. "That's all I needed to tell you about. I guess I have to go and find Annie now; I think I hurt her feelings."

"Wait," Natalia called, getting out of bed. "I'll come with you if you like."

"Sure, why not?" Becca smiled. "Not like we have anything else to do."

Natalia grinned as she donned her jacket. "You wouldn't have been so quick to say that a week ago. You didn't want anything to do with me back then."

Becca allowed her friend to walk out of the door first. "Honestly, I thought you were just going to slow me down, but I guess you sped us up. If not for you we might have never found out about the checkpoint or Sully and Em, all because you ran up to Deborah's front door thinking your brother was there."

"Yeah..." Natalia sighed.

Becca frowned as the two of them began walking down the main hall. "What's the matter?"

"I don't..." the younger teen began, almost tearing up. "My family; I don't think they're going to get here."

Becca's eyebrows shot up in disbelief. "What brought that on? You were so sure they were around. Of _course_ they're going to get here – I always hoped Annie and Vince would be alive and look what happened! I made it on my own for months and didn't give up."

"I don't know if I can keep going for so long without them." Natalia admitted, avoiding Becca's gaze and quickening her pace to leave the older teen behind. "Not everyone can be like you."


	35. Chapter 35 - Departed

**Day 1089**

**Vince**

Vince sat on a stool, elbows resting on a round, wooden table as he gripped two playing cards in one hand. To his left was Anders, and to his right sat Lyle. On the opposite side of the table was Sully. The four of them had taken a rare opportunity where they were all off duty to play a good game of poker and drink some of the alcohol that the mall had stocked up.

Vince knew he was screwed and Sully barely had any grasp on the game, so they weren't taking it seriously nor were they playing by the rules.

"Anyone ready to give up yet?" Lyle asked, chin in his palm. "We've been at this for an hour and I'm getting leg cramps. I spend all day sitting down anyway."

"Opposite for me," Anders chuckled. "Dis is the first shance I've had to sit down."

Lyle mumbled, "You see, that's where we differ. Completely different jobs."

"Not to mennshun I'm Swedish and you're American."

"That, too." Lyle looked at Vince. "By the way, Sully and I never got to thank Annie for those binoculars she gave us."

"Yeah," Sully concurred, nodding solemnly. "That meant a lot to me, man. Now I've got a piece of Mitchell as well as a photo of my little sister." his hand found its way to his pocket and he withdrew a small photograph, brushing a thumb over the faded image longingly. "Poor kids." he mumbled, smiling... but with sorrow evident on his face.

Anders nodded. "I don't know what happened to my wife or my two sons." He admitted, the alcohol loosening his more than he probably would have liked. "It scares me."

Vince tried to put the conversation back on track by cheering the man up. "We don't know that this... _plague _or whatever is confined to America. Europe might be fine."

"It might not, dhough." Anders shook his head. "I'll never know. If no other country has come to save us in three yeers, they never will."

"And they can't save those who are already dead." Sully scowled. "Any fucking foreign soldiers set foot in this country the first thing I'll do is put a bullet through their goddamn skull because they were too late. My mom, dad, brother and sister are all fucking dead." He took a hefty swig from a whisky bottle and gulped loudly.

Lyle attempted to cool the man down. "Sully, come on. Lay off the beer a bit, you're gonna ruin the good time, y'know?" He reached for the bottle but Sully pulled it away from his outstretched hand.

"Oh, sorry for spoiling your 'good time' with the news that my family's dead," Sully growled sarcastically. "Just forget about it; it's nothing, all right? Not important."

"He didn't mean it like that." Vince interjected. "You're drunk."

"I know I'm drunk!" Sully admitted, his voice echoing through the relatively large hall. "I've got a hole in my leg and alcohol is the only thing that stops the aching!"

"Cool it, man," Lyle advised. "We've all been through that sort of thing, it's not like those walkers killing your family was anyone's fault."

Sully leaned back on his stool, expression relaxing slightly. For a few seconds it looked as if he had calmed down but his eyes widened as he realised something. "Wait a second..." he murmured. "Vince, how'd those walkers that bit Mitchell get into Sanctum?" slack jawed and staring into thin air, he took another hefty swig of whisky.

Vince didn't see where his friend was going, but he explained anyway. "It was a distraction... Hector told... Bonnie and Annie to lure them in." He frowned with realisation. Sully's fist clenched around the bottle.

"Fuck." the man said. "So you're saying Mitchell died because of that shitty plan Bonnie and Annie went through with?"

"It was Hector's idea, man," Vince told him. "It's not like we can do anything about that-"

Sully leaned forward and cast his cards aside. "Bonnie and Annie followed that plan through." he whispered. "Bonnie was the one who tried to shoot Hector later on and ended up attracting the herd that tore my brother to _pieces._" He pushed himself to his feet, keeping hold of the glass bottle.

"What're you going to do?" Anders asked, looking up at him. Lyle seemed similarly concerned.

"Don't do anything rash," the sniper warned.

Sully took yet another sip, then placed the bottle down on the table. Vince watched him for a moment as his shoulders slouched and his fingers curled into fists. His face was vacant and serene, as if it were processing several things at once and wires were crossing over. He was either exaggerating his beliefs because he didn't know the whole story or the alcohol was stopping him from thinking straight.

Slowly but surely, Sully backed up against the wall, pressing his spine into the white surface. His expression rapidly twisted into one of rage and he slammed his right fist into the wall, yelling "FUCK!"

Vince, Anders and Lyle watched in awe and confusion as the drunken Sully stumbled forwards then turned and walked away, heading for the main hall of the mall. They exchanged glances for a second, prompting Lyle to suggest "We should probably go after him."

The three of them got up and strode briskly after Sully. It didn't take them too long to catch up to the limping man, but he didn't even register that they were now walking next to him. His eyes were dead set on his destination.

"Sully, you've gotta calm down." Vince told him. He placed a hand on the man's shoulder in an attempt to pull him back or catch his attention, but Sully shrugged him off without making eye contact.

"I've got no fricking clue what's going on." Anders mumbled, looking at Lyle. The latter shrugged.

Sully stopped outside one of the stores and stared at the shutters protecting it from the outside. Taking a deep breath he walked forwards and rapped his knuckles against the metal. He paused for a few seconds, and when no reply came, he slammed his fist against it repeatedly, creating a booming metallic echo.

"I'm comin', all right?" someone said from inside. Instantly Sully moved back. Vince moved forwards again to restrain the man but he was pushed away. Not wanting to get violent, Vince left him to his own devices.

The shutters slowly slid up to reveal Bonnie on the other side. She glanced at the four men, concerned and confused, until Sully spoke.

"You got my brother killed."

Bonnie took a step back. "I, wha-?"

"Sully," Vince warned, "Cool yourself."

"She doesn't even remember." Sully snarled through gritted teeth. He raised his right hand and blocked the doorway out of Bonnie's room, keeping his eyes on the woman all the while. "That genius plan to lure walkers into Sanctum got my brother killed."

"That wasn't my plan." Bonnie shrugged. "I just did what Hector said... and so did Annie."

"If Hector told you to jump off a cliff, would you? I know Annie wouldn't." Sully slurred. His face was still a mask of drunken anger.

Bonnie stared at the man, wide-eyed. "Look, I'm sorry about your brother. I didn't _plan _that. Jesus, I-"

"Sorry makes it all go away, huh?" Sully bellowed, slamming his palm into the door frame. "For fuck's sake, it doesn't work like that! All you do is get people killed – my brother, Becca's sister. Based on how you made us backtrack to that fucking town it's your fault _Wyatt _is dead, too!"

Bonnie shook her head. "I wasn't even there when Wyatt got shot!" she retorted, defending herself. "When I showed up he was already hurt."

"You put him and Mitchell in that situation, though! You made Emily nearly fall to her death from that fuckin' bridge!" Sully yelled. Vince heard a harsh crack as Sully's knuckles cracked from strain, curling his fingers further and further into fists. The man threw his left arm wide, pointing at the main entrance. "Why don't you fuck off and leave this place before you get the rest of us killed?!"

Surprised by the pent up rage and sheer emotion in Sully's now-cracking voice, Vince darted forward and pulled the man back before he could get physically violent with Bonnie. Sully struggled as he was restrained, but Lyle and Anders soon added their strength to the mix.

Bonnie hesitated in the doorway for a moment, glancing at Vince who shook his head. "He's drunk," he explained. "He didn't mean it."

"I meant every fucking word!" Sully yelled. "You killed my brother, not the walkers!"

Anders broke away from restaining Sully for a second, heading inside of Bonnie's room. The woman moved aside, but stared at the ground as if she were thinking long and hard. Slowly but surely, she raised her head and scowled. "I'm sick of this." she admitted. "I've seen how you all look at me for things I barely had a hand in. Becca hates me because of Shel. Annie hates me because of Wyatt." she looked at Vince. "Even you."

"That's not true, Bonnie," Vince breathed, still struggling to withold Sully. He didn't need to worry for much longer as Anders returned with a heavy wooden plank and slammed it over the drunk man's head, knocking him unconscious. Bonnie headed inside herself, and Vince turned to the two men.

"Take him to Lucia, guys," he ordered. "I'll sort things out with Bonnie."

Lyle frowned, as Vince was technically his inferior at the mall, but did not argue. Anders grappled Sully under the armpits while Lyle gripped his feet and the two of them began to carry him down to the sick bay to be checked on. No doubt Emily would be unhappy about it.

Vince began walking towards Bonnie's room but the woman emerged, pushing him out of the way. As she turned and began walking towards the mall's entrance Vince noticed she had a backpack over one shoulder.

"Bonnie," Vince called skeptically, "What are you doing?"

Bonnie shook her head. "I'm leavin'."

"Leaving?" Vince forced a chuckle. "Don't you know how dangerous it is out there?"

Bonnie looked over her shoulder and stared at Anders and Lyle who were still carrying Sully. "Seems like it's more dangerous 'round here." she shook her head and sighed. "I'm sick of people blamin' me for people dyin'... it's always my fault to them. It's better off for all of us if I don't stick around."

Vince gripped Bonnie's shoulder and tried to pull her back. "Just think about it, Bonnie. Think it over, okay?"

"Ain't nothin' to think about."

As Bonnie strode out of the doors and into the night, Vince couldn't help but think how dangerous it was for her to leave a perfectly functioning settlement. Maybe the volatility directed towards her from Sully, Becca, Annie and even himself had gotten to her. Maybe she couldn't suffer the guilt any more and had decided to start fresh on her own.

Vince called once more, "Where are you going to go?"

He received no answer.


	36. Chapter 36 - Search

**Day 1095 - Evening**

**Annie**

Annie stood with Becca. The two of them watched Lyle and Anders discussing matters diligently at the entrance to the mall; the two men didn't seem angry at each other – in fact they seemed to be agreeing on something – but they were definitely angry at someone.

Annie guessed the two adults were annoyed with Sully. From what she had heard he had drunk something bad which had made him angry, shouted at Bonnie a lot and Anders knocked him out. She'd also been told Bonnie had left the mall and hadn't made contact since.

While Annie had known Bonnie for quite a while, she still could not find it within herself to forgive the woman for pulling her away from Wyatt's dying body. Annie wanted to stay with him until he either got better or died, and even though Wyatt had _told_ Bonnie to get Annie to safety, it likely meant that he died alone and afraid. That said, Annie knew she was unfairly shifting blame onto the woman, doing anything she could to try and forget it was truly her own fault Wyatt had died in the first place.

"What are they doing?" someone asked. Annie looked over her shoulder and saw Becca's new friend, Natalia, looking at Becca as she approached them both. Natalia seemed nice and had been nothing but kind to Annie, but the eight-year-old couldn't help but feel a miniscule grain of resentment after Becca had seemingly ditched her to hang out with the other teenager a week prior.

Becca shrugged as Natalia stood alongside them. "Sounds like they're gonna go look for Bonnie."

"They've been talking about it for a long time." Annie added, scratching her head. "If they wanted to go, wouldn't they have gone by now?"

"Maybe it's dangerous," Natalia proposed. "There might be walkers out there, or worse."

"Can't hurt to ask." Becca said, striding forwards and approaching the two adults. Once Annie and Natalia caught up, sharing slightly confused glances, Anders and Lyle clamped up and turned to face them all.

"What's up?" Anders asked.

"Before you say anything, you can't come with us." Lyle added, folding his arms as if he meant business.

Becca ignored the statement; Annie guessed she didn't want to go with them in the first place. "Where are you going, anyway? Can't be a supply run because Anders would just do that himself."

Anders shook his head. "We're gonna go looking for Bonnie again."

"You've been more than once?"

"Yeah." the man mumbled. "We've checked priddy much everywhere excepd for dhe east. She can't have got far."

"You're going out in the dark?" Natalia questioned, grabbing her upper left arm with her right hand nervously. "Don't you know that's very dangerous?"

"Groups barely ever move around at night," Anders told her. "Chances are we won't bump into anyone excepd Bonnie, plus we've got a place to hole up if we have to."

Lyle shook his head. "We could have avoided this is Sully hadn't screamed at her like he did."

Becca crossed her arms and lifted her shoulders, pursing her lips. "He wasn't exactly _wrong._" she mumbled.

"You're saying she's not worth bringing back to safety?" Lyle pressed, staring at her intently. When Becca didn't answer he directed his attention to Annie who avoided his gaze and looked away. She didn't want to be dragged into an argument.

"Regardless, we're going." Anders told them. "Gary and Don are on watch duty 'til we get back."

"Not sure I want to leave that kid up there." Lyle admitted, referring to Gary. "He's still a bit shaky, y'know?"

Anders shook his head. "Don will keep him under control. Anyway, we'd better ged going if we want to ged to the safe place by nightfall." He slung his crossbow and a backpack over his brown shirt and turned to face the exit, glancing over his shoulder once to make sure Lyle was coming. The younger man followed the Swede's example. "If you kids want to make yourself useful, go and make sure Sully doesn't have brain damage, okay? Lucia's got him at the moment."

On that note, the two adults pushed their way out of the exit and headed off into the fading evening light. Annie felt a disturbing lurch in her stomach as they disappeared out of the parking lot, as if she knew something bad might happen, but she didn't say anything to Becca or Natalia about it. Anders and Lyle were capable; they knew how to take care of themselves. They were not children like her.

"Should we go and check on Sully like he suggested?" Natalia asked. Much like Annie, the teenager always deferred decisions to Becca because she was never sure of what to do. In a way, Annie probably understood the way the fourteen-year-old's mind worked more than Becca ever could, regardless of the age difference.

The three children – of varying age – turned away from the entrance and began walking in the direction of the sick bay. As they ambled slowly, relaxed, Annie found her eyes drawn to the scabbard and sword which were strapped to Natalia's hip. Instantly all resentment was dropped as she gaped at the weapon. "Cooooooool..." she approved, eyes wide as she pointed at the blade. "Sword."

"Huh? Oh," Natalia hummed, looking down at the scabbard. "I found this in a museum with two of my brothers."

"You have _more _than two?"Becca asked, dumbfounded. "Jesus, how many brothers _do_ you have?"

"Four." Natalia informed her. "Two older brothers, a younger brother and a twin brother. And a sister."

"_Fuck._" Becca blurted. "I only had an older sister. Before all this your house must've been cramped."

"I didn't have anybody." Annie frowned, massaging her forearms with both hands, feeling the lining of her hoody rub against the pink scars of multiple cigarette burns. Only Becca and Wyatt knew of them, and she hadn't enjoyed telling either of them. _Vince _didn't even know.

Becca's face fell as she caught onto Annie's allusion. "Yeah... but try and forget that, huh? There's us now. We're a family... I guess." she turned to face the sick bay. "Now come on," she announced, slightly more sternly, "we've gotta check on Sully."

The three of them pushed the door to Lucia's makeshift medical centre open and looked inside. Sully was lying on the table, clearly awake, pressing a damp towel against the back of his head. Emily sat by his side, gripping his free hand while Lucia leaned against the wall with her good arm supporting her bad one.

"Don't mind us," Natalia mumbled. "Lyle sent us to check on Sully."

Groaning, Sully pushed himself up into a sitting position. "I'm fine." he paused. "Some ice would've been great, though."

Lucia shrugged. "When you find a working freezer you tell me straight away."

Sully chuckled but winced not long after, lying back down. "You'll be okay," Emily told him. "You just need rest."

"I'm surprised he's not concussed," Natalia observed, leaning forward for a better look at the back of the man's head. "What happened exactly?"

"He drank bad stuff which made him angry." Annie told her, pointing at Sully accusingly. "Now Bonnie's gone. What if he does it again and sends someone else away?"

Emily shook her head. "It's not like him to get drunk, Annie. I'm sure he won't do it again," she glared at Sully, "_Right?"_

Sully tipped his head back and forth rapidly, holding up his free hand in surrender. "Yeah, sure. No more alcohol. It was just... my leg was getting to me."

"He only woke up this morning," Lucia told the children. "If someone wants to go and find Vince and tell him he is awake now, that'd be great; Emily and I still need to check on his leg."

"Two beautiful women touching my upper leg." Sully smirked. "How can I resist?" He caught Emily's scowl once again and chuckled. "Don't worry," he smiled, "I'm just kidding, _darling_."

Annie spied Lucia, vacant and disheartened, staring nowhere in particular. She was probably thinking about Daniel, her boyfriend, who had died from a knife wound a couple of months ago. Becca seemed to understand this too and walked over to the nurse, patting her shoulder warmly and snapping her back to reality.

"I'll go find Vince," Becca told her, keeping hold of the nurse's shoulder reassuringly as she looked over at the other two adults. "And can you cool it for a minute?"

Sully looked over his shoulder and saw how visibly upset Lucia was. "Yeah, sure. Let's just get this leg checked on, huh?"

As Becca turned and guided her two younger friends out of the room, Annie glanced over her shoulder and scowled at Sully. While he was nice most of the time he had saddened Lucia and had drunk something similar to whatever Annie's biological father used to drink all those years ago – and it made them both insatiably angry if things were how they sounded.

Gripping her forearm, Annie looked ahead and deduced that she'd have to keep an eye on the man before he did something rash.


	37. Chapter 37 - Authority

**Day 1097**

**T. Church**

As he stared at Rook's flailing, undead corpse – pinned to the wall by Kirk's knife – Church felt a rage boil in his stomach that he could not withold. Rook had been his only friend in this group and now he was dead.

Turning on his heel and deciding he would deal with the roamer later, Church slowly ambled out of the shed, inhaling deeply through his nose. He turned past the shed and spied the other four bandits still eating.

"I heard you drop that can," Hazel muttered, "Bet Rook didn't take that lightly, huh? Wasting food?"

Church glared at Kirk. "Rook didn't do anything." He snarled.

"Whaddya mean?" Carson questioned. "Did he just stare at you for a couple seconds till you turned and walked out?"

"You seen Kirk's knife anywhere?" Church proposed. "Probably not, because it's in Rook's chest right now and he's a _fucking roamer."_

"The fuck?!" Carson shuddered. "What the _fuck?!_ I thought we were supposed to stick up for each other, Kirk, now you're just goin' round killin' Rook?!"

Kirk shrugged. "Though Church'd keep quiet about it, but yeah. Stabbed him in his sleep. Been trying for a week but he was awake every time I went near him – until last night."

"Why'd you do it, Kirk?" Hazel asked, emotionless. She didn't at all care about Rook's death, just the motives of his murderer.

Kirk stared down at his can and carried on eating. "Got tired of him stoppin' me from eatin'. Got fed up of him leadin' and his shitty rules."

Church stared him down. "Those rules keep us alive."

"Now I'm in charge, I'll make new rules that keep us alive. You can't be jacking off to the thought of Rook all your life, Church."

A memory passed through Church's head; Rook saying _"I need you on my side, Church. Gotta make sure you've got my back, brother. If they start challenging my authority then you gotta help me enforce it."_

As the words faded from his mind, the masked man took a step closer. "You ain't leadin' no one." he snarled.

"Oh, yeah?" Kirk chuckled, getting to his feet. "Who's gonna stop me? You think I killed Rook by myself? Who was on watch last night to let me get in that shed and do it?"

Church's eyes fell on Hazel, but she shook her head. "Fell asleep." she grunted. The man looked over at Jethro, whose eyes narrowed at him. "Rook had to go." he mumbled.

"If you think you can go through both of us, you're welcome to try." Kirk laughed.

Church shook his head and turned in the direction of the shed to deal with Rook's dead body.

"Yeah, I thought so." Kirk called. "I knew you were a coward, Church – you're too much of a _bitch _to show your face!"

Halting on the spot, Church tilted his head back and inhaled through his nose once again. Just as he had in the shed, he span on the ball of his foot – tearing up some grass – and stormed over to Kirk.

The shorter man took a step backwards, realising his error, but Church did not relent. He lifted the man up by the material of his shirt, showing the group he was in fact as strong as his form suggested, and dropped him by the shed. Kirk hesitated for a second until Church thrust his palm into the side of his head, forcing it to collide with the flimsy metal wall and creating a considerably sized dent. Dazed, Kirk leaned forward and Church pummeled him with a left hook to the jaw, sending him sprawling onto the grass.

Church felt someone grab the material of his shirt, holding his hands behind his back. Looking over his right shoulder he spied Jethro restricting his arms and giving Kirk time to get up. The beaten bandit got to his feet and prepared a heavy fist which he slung into Church's stomach, winding him. Struggling to break free Church was hit once again, then Jethro stamped on the back of his leg, forcing him onto his knees.

Kirk chuckled and reached for his blade, forgetting that it was still embedded in Rook's chest. Once he resgistered that the weapon was missing his face fell and Jethro looked at him, buying Church time to jerk his head forward and pull the latter inwards and lose his balance. Jethro forgot to keep hold of Church and the bandit sprung to his feet, spinning round to punch him in the face.

As he attacked on Jethro, Kirk planted his fist between Church's kidneys, causing him to reel back in pain. He recovered as Jethro charged towards him, fist held back, and caught the man's hand as it was thrown at his head. Jethro couldn't stop in time and Church pushed against the force of his fist, causing him to scream in pain as his upper arm was put in a place it shouldn't have been able to go. Staggering back, Jethro clutched his arm in pain.

Kirk, however, did not relent just yet. Church swivelled to face him just as he was ready to charge. The bearded man's brow creased and his eyes narrowed as he made a beeline for his target, but as soon as he came within a metre something beyond Church's control slammed against the side of his head, knocking him into the side of the shed and rendering him unconscious.

Carson, wielding the heavy wooden plank which had just knocked Kirk out, turned and nodded at Church, then looked over his shoulder at Jethro. They glared at him for a second until Hazel repeated Carson's actions and they were left with two unconscious... 'traitors'.

"No fuckin' way am I livin' under him." Carson muttered. "And you, Church, you don't take _any_ shit."

Hazel looked at her new leader. "Whadda we do with them?" she asked.

Church folded his arms slowly. "Strip them of weapons and wait till they wake up. Then we ensure that we have their loyalty."

"And if we don't?"

In no mood to take anyone's shit, Church simply stated "We break them."

Carson grinned. "I like your style."

The new group leader pointed at the shed. "Carson, you take car of Rook and retrieve Kirk's weapon. Its yours now. In fact, anything either of you want, you can have."

Hazel smirked at him. "You're more fit for this than I expected."

Church glanced at her, then turned away, wincing as he heard Carson grunt with effort as he thrust Kirk's knife into Rook's undead head.

"Ouch. That's gotta sting." Hazel remarked.

Church snorted. "You should've stayed awake."

"I'm _sorry, _okay? I didn't know they were going to kill Rook."

Shaking his head, Church almost formed a reply but the conversation was cut off as something brushed through the bushes and trees surrounding them. Lifting the back of his shirt Church retrieved a revolver from the waistband of his trousers.

"How long have you had that?" Hazel asked, concerned. "Why didn't you just shoot-"

"_Quiet." _Church hissed.

The two of them glanced around the clearing, following the noise as it passed through the brush. Church aimed his revolver at the trees, but pulled back as a man broke through the undergrowth, throwing his hands into the air as soon as he saw the bandits, gasping "Shit!"

Church studied him silently; he had a blue and white hoody, a mess of brown hair and was stained with blood.

"Don't hurt me." the man gasped. "Please."

"We should take his things." Hazel advised, but Church shook his head.

"He has nothing we want." he told her. "Hey, you; what's your name? What happened to you?"

"Oh, thank God," the man gasped, sighing with relief. "Listen – there's a herd coming this way, from the East. If you're going you need to go now." His eyes fell on the unconscious bodies of Kirk and Jethro, then he looked back up at the masked form of Church nervously. "Look, if you promise you won't kill me, I can help you out. I need to get back to my people."

"I didn't ask for help," Church retorted. "I asked for your name."

"All right, take it easy, pal." The man took a deep breath before revealing his identity. "Name's Lyle."


	38. Chapter 38 - Stream

**Day 1097**

**Thomas**

Thomas ran for what felt like an eternity, but in truth it was something like twenty minutes. As he stopped for a break in a copse of trees, he prayed that he had put enough space between himself and the herd to prevent them from picking up his scent. Surely Phil's cooked flesh would distract them - perhaps it was what attracted them in the first place.

Sighing, Thomas pressed his hand against a tree and leaned forward. He would have to find somewhere new to stay and fast; most of his supplies remained in the docks and he couldn't go back there because the herd was probably storming through it like nobody's business. He had no food as he'd mostly been eating human meat for a while now and had not bothered to stock up on anything that came in a package. His luxuries had overcome him.

Thomas paused, closing his eyes and exhaling with exasperation as he felt pressure in his bladder. Groaning, he looked around to check for the dead and faced the nearest tree, unzipping the flies of his jeans so that he could bleed the lizard.

Taking a sigh of relief as his stream of urine spattered against the tree, Thomas looked over his shoulder and around the area once again as he allowed his body to do what came naturally. Smirking, he thought of how funny it would be if someone caught him in the act, so he piped up to tempt fate.

"_I've been workin' on the railroad,_

_all the live-long day!_

_I've been workin' on the railroad,_

_just to pass the time away!"_

Thomas chuckled loudly as he finished up. No one was around to see or hear him peeing. He was glad he hadn't needed to take a dump as he didn't think he'd be up to pulling his jeans all the way down, turning his back on the tree and grabbing the backs of his ankles as he desperately attempted to expel digested human flesh from his digestive tract. In the middle of nowhere.

Zipping up his flies, Thomas turned and pulled the handle of his machete out of the bag that was attached to his back. Leaving the puddle of urine alone to stagnate, he continued his journey through the woods, his weapon hanging down by his side as he strolled.

Before long a sense of paranoia overcame him. He glanced around, eyes narrowed as he studied the forest, but nothing immediately came to light. The dead were not clever enough to hide so he was most likely being watched by a person or two.

If he was being scoped out, there was nothing he could do about it. If they were planning to kill him they probably would have done it while he was freeing the beast all over a tree trunk so chances were they wanted to hook up and form an alliance. Most days, Thomas didn't go for alliances, but today was not 'most days'. He was in a predicament, had nowhere to go and nothing to eat or drink, so he was willing to chance it.

He didn't have anything to lose.

Thomas murmured under his breath, left hand shaking involuntarily as his neck jerked and contorted, scanning the brush, the undergrowth, the trees. Before he made a move he had to be sure he knew where this person was.

Then he saw it; a bush shook slightly, and Thomas' eyes focused. Staring through the branches and leaves, he saw a shoulder covered by brown fabric. Feigning ignorance, he span on the spot and walked a few paces away, pulling a different bush apart and glancing inside.

"Who's there? Show yourself!" he growled, acting as if he was unaware of the stranger's location. Keeping his back to their hiding spot, he allowed them to gain a false sense of security and kept them thinking they had the upper hand.

Without warning, he swivelled on the ball of his foot and pointed his blade outwards, turning a full one hundred and eighty degrees. Behind him stood a crease-faced man aiming a crossbow at his chest. Judging by the red stains on his clothing he had come from the same direction as Thomas - away from the oncoming storm of dead.

"Had a run-in with the herd, huh?" Thomas sneered, neglecting to lower his blade. "Lot of 'em back there?"

The stranger shook his head. "I thoughd you were someone else."

"You don't know me, I could be someone else to who you expect." Thomas told him. "I can be anyone. I might not be me right now."

"Whad are you talking about?" the man asked, taking a nervous step back.

Thomas shrugged. "See, you're clearly being _you. _You're scared and you're backing off. I'm just saying that you never know if someone is who you expect them to be, just like I'm not the 'friend' you're searching for."

The man's eyes widened. "You've seen Lyle?" he asked. "Where is he?"

"I've seen no one, buddy." Thomas admitted. "Just assumed that you wouldn't be looking for an _enemy_, would you now?"

The man backed off a bit more. "I need to ged back to my people." he muttered. "I need to find Lyle."

_People. _The word sent sparks off in Thomas's head. While he wasn't the most sociable of survivors, the premise of a group oddly excited him. "You have a group?" he asked. "So, buddy, pal. Got any supplies? I'm awful hungry."

"I have to go." the man told him. "I'm sorry, I haf things to do." he aimed his crossbow away from Thomas's chest and turned to run off, but Thomas jerked forward, grabbing his shoulder and pulling him back around. The oddly-accented man gulped as his crossbow was swatted to one side and Thomas's machete was pressed to his neck.

"Don't ignore me." Thomas seethed. "I hate it when people ignore me. You answer my questions and take me to your group because _I. Am. Hungry." _

"You're-" the man began, but Thomas hushed him.

"Don't say 'crazy'." Thomas warned him. "You don't want to know what happened to the last guy who called me that. Just tell me what your deal is and I won't kill you. I don't _want _to kill you but I might _have _to kill you. I'm smart; I knew where you were before you made yourself known, so I can help you find your friend... but _only_ if you give me more details about this group of yours."

The man choked again, prompting Thomas to loosen his grip slightly. "I..." the man began. "I have a setdlement. We came oud here looking for someone."

"You didn't think to look there, did you?" Thomas groaned. "He's probably gone right back home."

"We had a meed-up point." the man told him. "A shed not too far from here; it's probably overrun now."

"So what's the problem? Just head back to camp."

The foreigner paused. "Id's not dat easy any more."

Thomas scowled. "That would be because I'm here. You think I'm dangerous, but I'm only dangerous if you're on the wrong side of me. Get on the right side of me and I'm good to keep around. Just remember that."

The man shuddered. "You said you can help find Lyle?"

"I can track him, but only if you promise to take me to your settlement."

The man paused. "How can you track him?"

"I have experience tracking people." Thomas muttered bluntly. "I never lose someone once I have sight of them." he glared at the foreigner to instil his message. Much like he had never lost Phil and had succeeded in killing him, he could find this 'Lyle' without too much trouble once he found a trail. Much like this stranger would never leave his sight if he did not cooperate.

The foreigner took a deep breath. "Okay," he sighed, "okay, you can help."

Thomas relaxed his grip, satisfied. "Name's Thomas. _You _got a name, buddy, pal, friend?"

Gulping, the crossbow wielder slung his weapon over his shoulder, muttering "Anders."

Thomas patted his new 'friend' on the back. "All right, Anders. Let's go find your friend, then we can all go home to this settlement of yours."

Anders looked away, concerned. _"Gud hjälpe mig."_


	39. Chapter 39 - Tracks

**Day 1097**

**Thomas**

It didn't take Thomas and Anders long to find their way to a rusty old maintenance shed just off of a main road. It was slightly concealed by undergrowth and trees but looked like a decent enough outpost.

Anders rushed forwards into the clearing, Thomas reluctantly following up and checking their surroundings, having second thoughts about their agreement even though he'd been all-for-it around half an hour ago.

Thomas was an indecisive creature.

He spotted his new Swedish ally examining a burned out camp fire. "Somebody has been here." the latter observed. "Do you think it was him?"

Thomas crouched and examined several depressions in the grass. "How many people were you looking for, buddy?"

"One; Lyle."

Thomas shook his head. "This isn't him. I count five people who slept around this fire. They haven't been gone long, either, but it seems like they've packed up and left since." He looked at the shed. "...Unless..."

"What?"

"They're in_ there_."

Anders cursed in his native tongue, and raised his crossbow. Backing up against the door frame he waited for Thomas to raise his machete on the other side of the door frame, then kicked it open. Retreating, the two of them waited for any sign of commotion but heard none. Slowly but surely they crept into the room, weapons still raised in case someone was preparing an ambush on the inside.

"Nobody." Anders confirmed.

Thomas spat on the concrete floor of the shed. He had been hoping for at least a little bit of bloodshed. That said, there was always Anders if things didn't go as planned.

As Thomas crept ahead of Anders, who had crouched to study an empty tin can, he breathed sharply as he saw a corpse sitting against the wall. Unsure of whether it was still an active dead body or not, he approached it with caution and hissed to Anders to get his attention.

The Swede stood up and whispered "Got it." In one swift motion he raised his crossbow and fired it into the corpse's skull just to be sure. Once they were certain it was as dead as possible, the two men approached it and prepared to examine it.

Anders withdrew his bolt from the cadaver's skull and Thomas tilted its head to face him. "Knife wound in the head already." he noted. "Someone already put this thing down - maybe your friend."

"That is good." Anders told him. "It means Lyle may have already been through here."

Thomas gritted his teeth as he leaned the body forward. "Stab wound in the stomach, too. Puncture in the wall behind it. Looks like someone pinned it here while it was alive otherwise they would've gone for the head. Likely the same person who took it out because the wounds are similar sizes, which means it could be the same weapon."

Anders rubbed his chin. "Lyle didn't have a knife with him as far as I know."

Thomas shrugged, keeping up the charade that he was somewhat normal, and tugged at the scarf around the dead body's neck. "Scarf." he observed, unfurling it. "A bandana. A mask. This guy looks like a bandit."

"_Skit!" _Anders cursed.

Thomas examined the red fabric and looked back at the bulky corpse's face. It seemed fairly fresh as little decomposition was present; whoever this bandit was, he had definitely been killed the evening before or overnight.

"If Lyle didn't have a knife, he probably wasn't involved." Thomas told Anders. "Sooooo, buddy, friend, pal. Maybe it's best to head back to this _settlement _of yours and check it out?"

Anders scratched the stubble on his chin, pondering the sensibility of bringing a stranger back to his base and potentially putting people in danger. "You've helped me dis far," he admitted. "And you seem to want safety more than anything."

"Too right." Thomas told him. "Got nowhere to go after that herd overran my old place."

Anders huffed, concerned. It looked as if he had an ace up his sleeve or knew he'd be able to keep Thomas under control, but the cannibal did not care. He needed shelter and if Anders was offering, he would take it – even if it _was _a settlement filled with people. Thomas was no good at socialising but he was not planning on sticking around long. "So, where is this place, pal?" he asked, hands twitching.

Anders' grip on his crossbow tightened as he glanced towards the exit. "Dis way. We should be dere by nightfall."

Thomas nodded, resting his blade atop his shoulder, and followed the Swedish man out of the shed, leaving the corpse behind to rot. The cannibal studied the cloth he had retrieved from the body, wondering if Anders had worked out his past yet. If things took a turn for the worse and the Swede realised he had consumed people before, he'd have to put a blade to the man, find the settlement and come up with some sob story about how he found Anders bitten and dying, begging to be put out of his misery - but telling Thomas to report his demise. They would welcome him with open arms. He would return the crossbow, and all would be well. Unless of course they accused him of torturing Anders for information about the settlement.

Thomas didn't torture people, he just killed and ate them. Prolonged suffering was too drawn out and tiresome. It was better to kill a person and get the job done; if he didn't, he'd just be depriving himself of sustenance for an even longer period of time.

Tucking the bandit's mask into his back pocket, Thomas reached up and readjusted the strap of his backpack, then carried on walking. It felt as if he was walking on two metal poles instead of legs, as if he had bone and nothing else holding him up. There was a distinct numbness, but also a sharp weariness about his limbs. If he allowed it to, it would annoy and unnerve him to no end, so he simply opted to ignore his concerns and carry on walking. A similar thing happened when he consumed human flesh; if he thought about it too much he'd start considering morality and his life choices which would eventually spoil his appetite. From there the meat would go off and he'd have to kill someone else.

He glanced at Anders. Perhaps if this fellow was telling the truth about a settlement, he might not have to eat another man for a while.


End file.
